Rebelling
by InTheNameOfHate
Summary: Quin isn't sure what he'll find when he breaks into his Father's, the famous Dib Membrane's, lab, but it definitely wasn't an Alien that has been supposedly dead for ten years, very much alive. And what does his Cousin and Aunt Gaz have to do with it? There's something much bigger going on here, that dates back over fourteen years, and it all points to an Alien named Zim.
1. Chapter 1

Quin grumbled to himself as he watched his Father talk to some "Paranormal Scientist/Investigator" like himself. Dib Membrane was the most widely known Paranormal Expert in the world, mostly for uncovering that Alien thirteen years ago, a few more aliens, a chupacabra and the Bigfoot only five years ago. Quin knew now that his Father was working on a new project; ghosts. He also knew that branches of his Father's empire stretched out into a wide range of Alien research and Werewolf research.

Quin believed all of it; he had too. He'd even seen the stuffed hand of the Bigfoot; all that was left over from the creature.

Part of it excited him. It was really interesting. But all Quin really wanted to do was draw. Quin Membrane loved drawing, painting and even a bit of writing or poetry. But he knew his dad would think it weak and his Mother probably wouldn't care much.

Despite her saying she loved them equally; Quin knew his Mother loved his little sister Maize more. Maize was only seven compared to Quin's eleven and she had lilac hair and a dimple. She was cute, funny and adorable. Of course their Mother favoured her.

The only person Quin felt really respected him was Chyme, his cousin. Chyme was only fourteen, though, and had her own life and problems. Right now her parents were going through a divorce. Her Father, Zeek, was off in England to lecture students in University and Gaz, her Mother, was touring Germany for her new electronic game simulator. Chyme was left to live with her crazy Uncle Dib and irritating Aunt Zita. To her it couldn't get much worse.

For Quin, though, having Chyme around was a much needed break. She was someone good to talk too, to laugh with and to theorize about their mad family. Chyme told him stories of the Grandfather he'd never met. About how he lost it in his old age and started visiting Gaz and Chyme when Chyme was only two years old with a bottle of brandy and a genetically modified cucumber. Somehow, this was incredibly funny.

Chyme was all about rebelling. She looked like she'd never broken a rule in her life, but really, it was just a disguise. She hated being chained and under Chyme's watchful eye, Quin began to agree.  
They added snails to everyone else's dinner but theirs. They made a fake alien signal appear on Dib's private signal system and laughed as he freaked out. They sent Billy (the boy who lived next door) several love letters and watched him cry in delight and run to show his mother. It was hilarious.

What Chyme had wanted to do most, though, was enter the laboratory. The Private Laboratory that was under the Membrane property. And secretly Quin wanted to explore down there as well. But Dib would never let them go down there. So they'd have to sneak.

Dib and Zita were out when they put their plan into action. They were having a romantic night together; dinner, a movie and then a hotel. Quin didn't even want to think about what they would do there, although he couldn't help it when Chyme kept throwing around creepy suggestions.

Quin had his Father's pass card, and his own DNA reading would hopefully pass for that of his Father's. The only problem was Maize, who'd been left with them to be looked after.

In the end it looked like they'd have to take her.

Maize liked Chyme. Maize would pretty much do whatever she said. So Chyme told her to keep her voice down and tiptoe, because they were going on a secret adventure. Maize had giggled and nodded, clasping her sweaty little hand with Chyme's.

Quin had watched Chyme smile fondly at his little sister and felt a wave of resentment flow through him. Why did everyone like Maize? She was an annoying, stuck up, spoilt brat. Not even Chyme, smart, funny, Chyme realised that.

He didn't say anything, though. Quin simply pursed his lips and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"Let's get going," he said, glancing out the window just in case his parents turned up again. Chyme nodded and led Maize and Quin out the front door of the large house and towards the small building at the back of the house. This was Dib's lab; his private lab. Not the one he worked in from nine to five, but the one he spent spare hours in, the one that was not known to many people. To most, it looked simply like a shed.

Quin stepped forward to unlock the small padlock on the door, having stolen the key from his Father's study. It clicked and Quin left it hanging as the rusty door swung open.

The shed looked old, like not many stepped inside. The workbench at its back was covered in dust, the tools hanging from hooks were rusted and windows let in no light; they were clogged from grime.

The only sign of disturbance was the filing cabinet in the corner, not a speck of dust on its gleaming surface. Chyme walked through the cobwebbed doorway, pulling Maize with her. Quin followed suite. They approached the filing cabinet and Chyme made to open the top drawer, but there was a sudden flashing light from the roof and the filing cabinet disappeared into the wall, only to be replaced by a strange looking device.

It was a scanner, Quin realised, for his Father's card. He quickly scanned the card, letting out a sigh of relief when it beeped in acceptance. Then another screen flashed up, stating that Quin had to scan his DNA. Quin bit his lip and placed a hand on the screen, wondering what would happen if the machine rejected him. What if his Father discovered him here? He'd be in so much trouble.

"DNA READINGS SUFFICIENT," the machine stated in a mechanical voice, flipping backwards into the wall again. A platform rose from the floor in the exact spot that the filing cabinet had stood. Taking a deep breath, Quin stepped onto the platform, closely followed by an excited Chyme and nervous Maize.

"Past the point of no return," breathed Chyme.

"The final threshold," Quin said, smiling.

_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn._

The platform moved slowly downward, and with no walls, it was quite disconcerting. The darkness went by until it felt ridiculously cold and they could hardly see their own hands in front of their faces. Maize whimpered and Chyme whispered comforting nothings to her.

Finally the platform came to a halting stop and Quin felt his breath stop in his throat; were they meant to find their way in the dark?

But then the lights flickered once, twice and then on and brightened up the room. They were facing a long corridor, concrete and ugly, but definitely not dusty.

"See?" said Chyme gently, "It's okay, now, right?"

"I don't like it," said Maize, clinging to Chyme's shirt, "I want Mummy. I want to go back home."

"I know, I know," murmured Chyme as Quin gritted his teeth, "But we're here now. We have to have a look around before we go back."

"No," cried Maize, her voice echoing and tears running down her face, "I don't like it here. I want to go back up!"

"Maize," Quin ordered, even louder than her, "Shut up, won't you? You're a big girl now, not a baby. It's meant to be scary, it's an adventure!"

Maize stopped crying, but her bottom lip trembled. Chyme looked grateful, but didn't comment. She stood and took Maize's hand again.

Quin walked in front, peering in through all the doors. Most of it seemed to be empty labs... There was one that had looked like an office with an assortment of paperwork in it. The corridors twisted back and forth, seeming to lead in a full circle. Eventually Quin stopped and turned to Chyme.

"Listen, I don't think there's anything here but paperwork... Maybe we should leave?"

"No," said Chyme in a distracted tone, looking up and down the hallway they were currently standing in, "Mum said he was around here somewhere..." Chyme seemed to be talking to herself rather than Quin or Maize, as she wasn't explaining herself. She let go of Maize's hand, running towards a heavy looking, metal door.

"Here, we haven't tried this one!" She cried, pushing on the door with all her might. Quin ran over to help her, even though he was quite sure that there wouldn't be anything of importance in there.

"Chyme, listen-" he tried to tell her, but as soon as the door was wide enough to fit through she had run in. Quin gestured for Maize to follow. The heavy door closed behind them, leaving them in a room filled with various objects stacked on shelves.

All three children gasped in amazement, staring at the remarkable objects displayed.

It was clearly Alien technology. There were several devices that looked dangerous, or useful or completely bizarre. Chyme seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, though. She moved purposely, her eyes sliding over the assortment of objects until she spotted a strange twisted wire which looked like it had been ripped from another sort of device. She picked it up and placed it in the bag over her shoulder, before continuing to browse.

"Are you stealing stuff?" Quin asked, wondering if he should too, or if he should go down a completely opposite track and put his foot down. What if his Father came home early? What if he could tell they were in there? Were there cameras?

"I think he's definitely here," said Chyme by way of an answer. Quin pursed his lips and turned back to the shelf nearest him. Maize was giggling, pressing buttons on disabled machines. Suddenly something caught his eye.

"Whoa," Quin breathed, "Chyme, check out this thing. I think it's a robot!"

Chyme was over as fast as lighting, examining the small robot, opening the top of its head and surveying its insides. She didn't look too happy, but she picked up the robot all the same, struggling under its apparent weight. Quin moved to help her, but he knew they couldn't take the robot far.

"Chyme, we can't take this. Dad would notice its absence... Besides, I doubt we'd be able to get it to the house."

"No need," said Chyme, "We don't have to carry it if we turn it on. But there's still one more thing I need to find... It'll probably be the most protected in this room... But then again, I thought Gir would be, but he wasn't. Just discarded as junk."

Quin wanted to ask why she needed all this stuff, and who Gir was but Chyme had that no-questions-or-I-attack look on her face. So Quin obeyed, telling Maize to look as well.

Chyme was the one that found it, though, at the back of the room. Quin and Maize hurried to see what it was. In her hands was a small, backpack like device. It was pink and silver and wires had been pulled out and replaced, messily falling out of it.

"It's a Pak," said Chyme, "I'm sure this is it. Alright, let's keep looking for the room..."

Maize and Quin followed their cousin out into the corridor again, Quin dragging the robot along because Chyme had the Pak and several assorted objects she'd placed in her bag.

"What are you looking for?" asked Maize eventually, probably sick of the pointless searching.

"You'll see when we get there," answered Chyme.

"Just tell us, won't you?" Quin said, getting angry, "I want to know why I'm helping you steal from Dad. What on earth are you looking for?"

"That's just the thing," said Chyme quietly, "The thing I'm looking for isn't from earth."

"The Alien," Quin exclaimed, "That's what you're looking for!"

"Yes," nodded Chyme, looking distracted again, as though a sudden thought had come to her. She began walking down the corridor to her right. Quin picked up the robot and staggered after her.

"There's no point. Dad said it died years ago."

"How do you know?"

"I doubt Dad would keep an Alien locked up for thirteen years," Quin said matter-of-factly, "That'd be cruel."

"Wouldn't it?"

"You aren't saying that Dad lied? Why would he lie about that?" Quin asked, although now his brain was working furiously.

They were approaching the elevator platform again now.

"I don't know... But I am looking for the Alien, Quin. I really think he's here."

Besides the elevator were two buttons. An up button and a down button. Grinning, Chyme pressed the down button, quickly gesturing her cousins onto the platform. Maize and Quin stumbled forwards, and as the platform descended, Quin felt his head throb harder.

Why would the Alien Dib Membrane discovered thirteen years ago still be here, alive? Or was Chyme looking for its body? And how had she any clue of what to look for?

The platform stopped with a screech and they were met with a blast of stale air. Maize screwed up her face and Quin put a hand to his nose to stop the smell. It was like rotten eggs, a stink bomb and garbage all mixed together.

Chyme didn't seem too affected by the smell; there was only steely determination in her eyes. She led them from the platform, into the passageway completely different from the ones a floor above. This one looked old; dusty and damp, in some sick combination. Cobwebs grew in corners and puddles formed from leaks in the pipes. Damaged electrical wires lay on the ground, just centimetres from such puddles of water. The safety freak inside Quin instantly had a panic attack, but he managed to restrain himself from running to the cables and pulling them away. Instead he contented himself with saying, "Keep out of the water, guys."

Quin took his sisters hand and helped her navigate around the puddles, following Chyme's relentless march towards the only door on the corridor.

For a moment she stood outside it.

"This is it," she whispered, her voice dangerously quiet.

"The Alien?" piped up Maize, who had been unusually quiet this whole time.

"No," Quin said hurriedly, not wanting her to get her hopes up, "Maize, there's no Alien-"

Chyme pushed the door open and Quin stopped mid-sentence.

For there was an Alien. Lying in a sort of shallow tank of sorts, tubes sticking in every direction from him. His skin must have been green once, but now it looked pale and sickly. He had two antennae, pointing sharply back from his head. The Aliens eyes were shut, and a tube was stuck down his throat, like on some really sick human, for breathing. The tank was glass and so Quin could clearly see the Alien was naked (and a male), but could also see his back, which was a strange mutilation.

Tubes stuck out of it from every direction, twisting and turning, leading from the Alien to several machines of some sort, strategically placed around the tank. The Alien's back looked like it had attempted to repair itself, growing skin over some of the tubes in such a way that it appeared the tubes were sprouting from its back.

As Quin watched in horror the creature opened one giant red eye, possibly because of the noise, and looked straight at them.

Chyme gave a horrified cry and ran at the Alien.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hi guys, I hope you liked this. It won't be too long hopefully, only a few chapters. **

**I'm sorry for painting Dib in a bad light, because I do like him, but it needed to be done for the purpose of this story. **

**Anyway, Review please, I'd really appreciate it!**

**-Mimi :)**

**(Oh, and I don't own Invader Zim, obviously)**


	2. Chapter 2

It struggled as Chyme wrestled with the tube in its mouth, frantically pulling, trying to wrench it from the creature.

"Chyme! Stop!" Quin yelled grabbing his cousin's arm and pulling her back from the alien. Chyme stopped, but appeared to be close to tears, watching the Alien recover from the shock. Quin, however, was quite good in shocking situations.

"What the hell were you doing?" he said, turning on Chyme. She sighed, rubbing her eyes to make sure she wasn't crying. When she spoke her voice wasn't steady.

"I thought it was hurting him... I was trying to get it out of him."

"Of course it's hurting me," snarled a voice, and the three of them turned to see the alien, tube pulled from its throat, turning a sickly white colour. The Alien quickly stuffed the tube into its mouth again and took a deep breath.

"You need it to breathe?" said Quin, understanding at last. The Alien brought the tube away from him again and nodded, sitting up higher in the tank.

"I need it to breathe, but I can't talk at the same time." There was a brief moment of silence as the Alien took them in, "You look like the Dib-stink," said the Alien, its large red orb-like eyes narrowed on Quin.

"Dib's his dad," said Chyme as evenly as she could, approaching the tank, "That's Quin and Maize, his children."

The Alien turned to study Chyme.

"Then you must be the spawn of little Gaz, Eh?" he seemed shaky, a little twitchy, recoiling slightly as Chyme came closer again. Quin put out an arm to stop her moving any further. The Alien was clearly frightened.

"But Dad said that you died a long time ago," Maize said, her young brain seeing the situation as clear as day. The Alien looked slightly thoughtful.

"I believe the feeling that propelled him to say so is called guilt," he said, "Dib-pig was never like me. He had emotions, always trying to please others... Maybe that was what remained of guilt and goodness in his heart when he fed you that lie. Sometimes Zim wonders why he kept me alive."

"Zim?" asked Maize, blinking her big eyes.

"That is my name, small human filth," he said, his voice lacking venom.

Zim's eyes fell on the robot in Quin's arms and his face lit up.

"Gir!" he said, his voice cracking at the volume, "You found Gir!"

"Is that the robot's name?" asked Maize, her eyes never leaving the little Alien. Zim nodded, pulling an arm out of the strange tank goo and raising it towards the little robot, almost as if he expected it to rise from the floor at his thought. Nothing happened and the Alien's face contorted into misery.

"They would have disabled him. Why are you Membrane spawn here? Did the Dib-pig let you here?"

"No," said Quin nervously, "He and Mum are out. We kind of snuck in... Chyme was looking for you..." Quin looked at his cousin, who looked determined. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out some sort of mechanical chip. It was beeping softly, every twenty seconds or so. Zim moved towards the edge of the tank, wincing as it pulled at the tubes in his back and neck.

"But that's my computer chip! How did you find it?"

"It was in a storage room upstairs... Along with Gir, and this," Chyme held out the Pak and the Alien's face broke into a wicked grin.

"My Pak... You, Mini-Gaz one, you have come to save Zim?"

"Yes," said Chyme, nodding, "I came from the orders of my Mother and an Irken named Skoodge... and a strange tiny floating moose," Chyme seemed to smile at the absurdity of this statement.

"Mini-Moose! He did escape! I always wondered what happened to him," Zim nodded to himself.

"You're helping him escape?" asked Quin incredulously, "But he's Dad's... I mean, we'll get in so much trouble!"

"Not if we don't get pinned as the ones who did it. Think about it, Quin, no one deserves to be locked up! For the past month we've been rebelling... This'd be the ultimate joke; to think that Dib Membrane's famous Alien escaped... And he couldn't even ask us about it, because in our opinions, Zim is dead!" Chyme sounded more and more excited as she went, smiling wide. Quin glanced at Maize, who was frowning at Zim in a concerned manner, and nodded stiffly.

On Zim's orders they plugged the chip into the panels of controls and watched as the lights flashed and a loud groan was heard from every corner of the room.

"Computer," called Zim, glee touching every feature of his face. Quin wondered how long he'd been dreaming of escaping... Thirteen years was a hell of a long time. Did Dib come and visit Zim, provide him with someone to talk to? Would the Alien even be able to walk? Wouldn't his muscles have rotted away from lack of use?

"What? I just woke up... Where am I?" a male voice sounded the room and it took Quin a while to realise it was the voice of Zim's computer chip.

"We're in the filthy Dib-Stinks little hide-out! He was even stupid enough to copy some of our Irken technology... But that will be his downfall!" Zim's voice was rising drastically and he started to laugh, but that ended suddenly with a large round of coughing. He stuck the tube back down his throat again, taking a deep breath. With a squelching sound, he pulled it out and looked at Chyme.

"Okay, child of Gaz, there are cameras in here. Destroy the tapes, now... For this entire place... I believe there are other rooms upstairs as well?"

Chyme nodded and hurried to find the camera files on the control panel screen. Zim turned to Quin and Maize, who were watching in silence. Zim took another breath from the tube.

"How are we meant to get you out of here if you need that tube to survive?" asked Quin, adjusting his glasses. Zim pulled the tube away again so he could speak.

"That's what my Pak did; kept me alive, did quite a bit of functions that human organs do. These tubes are doing what my Pak did, except... my Pak was where my personality and memories are stored... They transferred that chip to my brain... All I need is for these tubes to be gone and for the Pak to be in its place. They didn't destroy the Pak; Dib was very clear on that. After a little run in with my Pak when the Dib-Filth was a disgusting child, I think he was too afraid to mess with it. You said you found it in a storage room, didn't you?"

"We did," confirmed Quin, mind still torn over running to the platform to inform his Father or staying. Quin hated disappointed his Father, and he knew he had done it so much already. Sometimes he wished he lived with his Aunt Gaz and Uncle Zeek. Zeek was funny and encouraging enough. Gaz's only interest was in her video game industry. Though, Quin had often thought he could be an artistic designer for one of her games. Or maybe Aunt Gaz would take some interest in his stories, as Chyme had often mentioned her Mother's interest in literature. Quin knew that this would be the final straw for his Father if he ever found out.

"_You know," Dib said, after having a moment to quietly take in Quin's shocking science scores, "I was always a disappointment to my Father, too. By the time the world realised I was right about Aliens, it was too late... My Father was beyond sanity. Just keep studying, Quin, your grades might pick up someday. I suppose we can't all be gifted, eh?" He chuckled to himself and ruffled Quin's black hair, leaving the report card behind as he exited the living room. _

_Quin looked back at his report card, his heart breaking as he saw the fails in Science and Maths. The only thing that made him feel worse was the brilliant scores in English and Art that his Father had chosen to disregard._

"You do look remarkably like him," remarked Zim, after having another breath.

"I'm not my Father," growled Quin, clenching his hands into fists.

"If you say so," said Zim sceptically, his red eyes not showing a hint of belief.

Quin scowled and walked around the tank to take a closer look at the tubes, his stomach flipping as he saw. The Alien's skin was inflamed, puffy and clearly infected. Quin could almost see into Zim's insides, because the tubes obviously moved quite a bit, leaving gaping holes in his skin. The skin that had grown over some of the tubes was torn and flaking, obviously months old. As Quin stared at this horrific sight Zim collapsed into another fit of coughing, doubling over. The tubes pulled against him, making him fall back into the tank with a strangled cry. Maize yelled out in fright, making Chyme look up in shock. Quin ran, pushing a chair against the tank and jumping up. He hauled Zim up and thrust the breathing tube at him, ignoring the burning sensation that the tank goo was making him feel.

Zim's hands blindly grasped at the tube, bringing it automatically to his throat. Quin watched as Zim took a shuddering gasp and coughed again before taking another breath.

"What happened?" demanded Chyme, looking both angry and frightened.

"He started coughing," explained Quin, "But the tubes pulled at him, and he fell backwards. You should the state of his back. All the tubes can't be healthy for him. It looks badly infected."

"I need the tubes to live," Zim stressed, weakly if anything.

"Mum said that the Pak was fastened to your back, where the tubes are," said Chyme.

"Yes."

"Well, if we get rid of the tubes, can we reconnect the Pak?"

"It should do it automatically, if it were turned on," said Zim, his three fingers clenching and un-clenching. Quin wondered if this were a habit to deal with the constant pain.

"It looks broken," said Maize, poking the pink and silver Pak.

"Yeah," said Quin, "Just because it looks it doesn't mean it is."

"You don't have to be so mean," said Maize, frowning at her brother.

"You don't have to be so irritating," grumbled Quin.

"Focus!" yelled Chyme, her amber eyes flashing. Quin and Maize clamped their mouths shut, feeling slightly guilty for arguing.

"It isn't broken," said Zim, his eyes wide as he looked at the Pak from his sitting position in the tank, "It's practically operational. It just needs a few adjustments... could you pass it here?"

Quin did so, being careful not to let the Pak touch the tank goo. His hands still stung slightly and when Quin looked at them they looked red and agitated. He bit his lip and ignored it, though, for there were more important things at hand. Chyme announced that she had deactivated all cameras and security protocols, as well as deleting any history of them being there.

Now all there was to do was watch Zim as his tired eyes stared at the Pak, reattaching wires as though it were second nature to him and he hadn't spent thirteen years in isolation. Perhaps it was some sort of uncanny Alien memory.

For a moment Quin could see the appeal of being a Paranormal Investigator. Zim, sitting in front of him, his giant red orb-like eyes narrowed on the Pak, was fascinating. Imagine the things he would be able to tell them! Zim had been to other planets, flown among the stars, and seen the beauty of the universe.

And the horrors. Quin's grin faded as suddenly as it had arrived.

How could his Father have locked Zim up? This question, for some reason, had never occurred to Quin. Surely, he had figured, his Father had every right too. It was an Alien, after all, not human. But seeing Zim here, in pain and misery, made Quin feel nothing but anger and resentment for his Father.

Had this Alien been trapped under Quin's house as long as Quin had been alive? Yelling and calling for help, only to have no one answer him?

It seemed like a lifetime before Zim had finished. Maize's head had tipped sideways as she drifted into sleep in her sitting position on the floor. Chyme was resting against the control panel; her eyes locked onto Zim's hands as they pulled at wires and reconnected cords.

How long had passed by the time Zim had finished? Quin wasn't sure, but when he looked down at his watch, the face displayed a bright 11 PM.

"We should hurry up," said Quin, watching Chyme stand on the chair he had stood on earlier.

"Well, help then," said Chyme, brandishing a pair of scissors. Quin didn't even want to ask where she had found them.

"What do I do?" he asked, pulling another chair over to stand on, determinedly looking away from Zim's back.

"Cut the tubes," said Zim's weak voice, probably envisioning the pain he would be feeling. Quin hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything, Dib-child," snarled the Alien, "If it doesn't happen now, Zim will die here."

Quin wondered if he should obey. This creature was surely desperate... he would try anything. What if Quin cut them wrong and caused Zim some sort of harm? Was Zim really sane in the head to allow Quin to gamble with his life? He was talking about himself in the third person, after all. Perhaps that came from years of isolation... or perhaps that was how Aliens simply spoke.

However, he knew he really had no choice. The only problem was that these tubes were thicker than the scissors in his hand. He placed the blades against them and instantly knew that the scissors would never cut through them, and even if they did, the amount of time it'd take would be ridiculous.

"It's not going to work. The tubes are too strong for the scissors," Quin stated, watching Chyme's face fall. She didn't have another option.

Zim did, though.

"There's a small laser device in Gir," he said, "It may be disabled, but you might be able to pull it out and start it up again. Gir doesn't need it, and it won't hurt him."

Quin nodded, going to investigate the robot. Why would Zim be worried about Gir getting hurt? Robots couldn't feel. They were made of metal. Indeed, in a cavity in Gir's chest Quin found what he assumed was a laser, lodged inside tightly. It was easy to see why Dib and his fellow scientists might have overlooked this robot. Its insides were clogged with all sorts of things, from soap to bacon. Quin stuck his fingernails underneath and pulled, but it was either bolted down, or just stuck really tightly.

Chyme handed him the scissors and he ended up having to claw and cut it out. The laser was small, and covered with some sort of caramelized substance.

"I think this is maple syrup," said Quin in an astonished voice, "what was it doing inside the robot?"

Zim shrugged, but the ghost of a smile was evident on his face.

Quin felt his heart pounding as he went back to the chair facing Zim's back. He saw the Alien's back muscles tense as he held the laser to the tubes, biting his lip. Quin felt like his stomach was floating, sort of like the part of the rollercoaster right before the steep fall. He bit down further on his lip as he pressed down on the laser button, which sliced perfectly through the first. Zim froze stock still, probably because some sort of vital organ had gotten cut off. Quin wondered briefly how long his body could sustain itself without the support of the tubes, but pushed the thought from his mind.

Several tubes had been cut through before Zim began to make a sound. It was difficult, because the tubes didn't necessarily stop being connected to him when they'd been cut through. Quin was sure that Chyme had to tug at some of them for them to fall away, but he was focusing so much on what he was doing that he wasn't entirely sure.

Maize, in the entire ruckus, had finally woken. She seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, for she didn't make a sound, but stood on Chyme's discarded chair and took Zim's hand.

The room was completely silent but for the buzz of the laser, the clang of metal and plastic as the tubes were pulled away from Zim's skin and fell to the floor and the small whimpers coming from Zim. His pain endurance was amazing.

Finally Quin realised that there was only one tube left. As soon as he had cut through it and let it fall to the floor, Chyme pushed the Pak against Zim's back and pressed the button that Zim had instructed her too.

Immediately metal tubes sprung from the Pak and the Pak fastened itself to Zim. Zim wrenched his hand from Maize's.

Quin held his breath and hoped with all his might that Zim would be okay.

* * *

**I'm not sure how many more chapters this will be... probably a few. Please review! Reviews make my day. Thank you :)**

**-Mimi**


	3. Chapter 3

Quin seemed to be holding his breath for quite a while when Zim finally took a huge gasp of air and jumped to his feet, before collapsing back into the burning tank liquid. Chyme shooed Maize off the chair and stood up again so that she could lean over the tank.

"Are you okay?" she asked Zim, her amber eyes showing nothing but concern. The Alien's brow was furrowed, and Quin was quite shocked at how strange it looked without eyebrows. However, now that he thought of it, eyebrows on Zim would look even stranger.

"Zim cannot stand. The great and mighty Zim is reduced to nothing."

"It'll just be your leg muscles worn down," said Quin, as this was fairly obvious. Zim sent a glare his way, obviously not liking being talked down to.

"We'll have to carry you, then," said Chyme. Quin huffed, crossing his arms, because it'd likely be him carrying the Alien. How much did he weigh? He didn't _look_ heavy, but then again, neither had the robot and that was ridiculously heavy.

"What's the time?" asked Maize, blinking wearily. Quin glanced at his watch again.

"11:30," he said, "we should hurry."

Chyme nodded, placing the discarded bits of wires and tools into her bag. Quin looked at the slime covered Alien and made a decision in a heartbeat. Pulling off his jacket, Quin stood on the chair nearest to the tank and wrapped the jacket around Zim, wincing as it was covered with the slime. Zim didn't look too happy about the arrangement either, but it was this or being carried naked down the hallways, which neither of them was up for. It seemed to be a silent agreement of sorts; to keep from snapping at each other.

Quin wasn't exactly sure why, but Zim didn't seem like the most agreeable of people, and seemed to nurse a sort of distaste for him already. They avoided eyes as Quin lifted him and landed heavily on the ground. Zim was surprisingly light, which definitely would make the journey easier, but the annoying thing was now the question of how to hold Zim. He may have been light, but Zim had almost the same proportions as Quin.

In the end Quin settled to holding Zim in a sort of piggyback, and that was only at a forceful look from Chyme. As tired and grumpy as Quin was, he knew better than to mess with Chyme. She was scary when she was angry. The only positive of carrying Zim was that Quin no longer had to carry the robot. He grinned as Chyme dragged the thing down the hall with a sour expression on her face, only to be helped by Maize which sped the whole process up.

They all clambered onto the small platform, pressed against the concrete walls as they slid past when the elevator moved upwards. It was making Quin's stomach churn, so he shut his eyes. He was sure he could still feel Zim's glare through his eyelids.

The platform came to a halt and the doors slid open, showing the first floor, much cleaner than Zim's floor.

"I've just realised," explained Chyme, dragging the robot into the corridor, "I left Zim's computer brain down there. Wait here and I'll go back to get it." Quin didn't question why she didn't let them out at ground level. He hated the idea of Chyme being here alone just as much as she hated it.

"I'm tired," muttered Maize as they watched Chyme descend again.

"Fascinating," replied Quin, placing Zim down on the ground. He watched as Zim dragged himself towards the robot's rusted body, a determined look on his face. He dug his fingers into the small crevice along the top of Gir's head and pulled it open as Chyme had done earlier. This time, however, Zim knew exactly what he was looking for.

"Oh, look," mumbled Zim, "they pulled out that, but not the homing signal... didn't they realise that the Irken race can track this signal? Oh, and they've pulled out the coffee machine. That's a shame. Gir installed that himself. One of the only things he ever did properly; making coffee."

He wasn't talking to Maize or Quin; that was certainly obvious. He was speaking low, most of his words muffled by the coat he had wrapped around him tightly. Quin was fairly certain that he would have to throw it out. Another thought occurred to him as Zim shivered again, for perhaps the third time in a minute. It was cold here, certainly, but Zim hadn't looked cold in all that time he'd been naked in the tank.

The tank goo had been keeping him warm. Like some sort of bizarre insulation scheme. Quin remembered the burning feeling it'd left on his hands. Perhaps that was enough to keep the Alien warm?

"They've pulled out his energy converter," scowled Zim, "I don't know why... it's practically useless for anything else... filthy humans, always taking what isn't theirs!"

Quin shuffled his feet on the ground, wanting dearly to point out that he'd just saved him, yet Zim was still talking badly of humans. Zim seemed to sense his annoyance.

"You are a strange child, human," said Zim, stopping his inspection of the Robot, "You look like your Father-Unit. You even have his monumental head. But you act nothing like him."

"You knew my Father, then? What was he like?"

"Crazy," said Zim, "but not a bad person, by human standards. He was awful to me, of course, as I was awful to him. But he was very optimistic, and determined."

Quin didn't think this sounded much like his Father. Determined, perhaps, but his Father was definitely not optimistic. Dib Membrane was realistic, sometimes bordering on pessimistic. Looking at the frail little Alien, it was hard not to think that Dib was a bad person.

"But you are not like him. You are not at all optimistic, you know? You are strange, indeed."

"I've been told that," said Quin, gritting his teeth. He had been told that, by his old friends, before they'd gone off to play Football or whatever they moved onto.

_Quin stood alone by the side of the library building, watching the boys play football, or just running and yelling to each other. He ignored the eyes of the group of girls near him, giggling and looking at him very obviously. Quin was friendless again, forgotten and abandoned for being the strange art-orientated one with the Alien-Hunter Father. _

"_Hey," greeted a girl, a year above him, reading a book, "You look upset?"_

"_I'm fine," Quin muttered, his fingers digging into the cover of the book he was holding. The girl looked at it. _

"_Oh, I've read that. Good book, huh?"_

_Quin wasn't quite sure why the girl was talking to him, because he didn't even know her name._

"_You're Professor Membrane's son?"_

"_Yes," said Quin, waiting for her to drop the conversation._

"_My Dad works for him. I'm Stella. Want to sit with me?" The look on Stella's face was so genuine that Quin couldn't refuse. He walked the few paces towards her and sat on the step beside her. Somehow this made him feel better._

"_Thanks," he muttered, opening his own book to mimic her._

"_Don't mention it," mumbled Stella, already absorbed in her book again._

"What's this?" asked Maize, holding up a stuffed toy.

"It's a Pig, puny dirt child," said Zim, as though finding a stuffed pig inside a robot was completely normal.

"Why would Dad and his Scientists fill the robot with children's toys-?"

The elevator doors creaked open and Chyme stepped out, her bag over her shoulder.

"Let's go," she ordered a steely look on her face. Quin stood and picked up a reluctant Zim, watching Maize place the stuffed pig gently back inside the robot as if it were sacred. Chyme picked up Gir with a grunt and staggered back to the elevator. Quin followed.

The doors shut and the darkness enveloped around them again. Maize whimpered again, clinging onto Quin's hand.

"Shut it, human worm-thing," said Zim, but his voice was soft. Zim's language really was... creative. Still, at least he wasn't swearing around Maize.

The light slowly appeared up above them. It gave Quin the strangest feeling that he was ascending into heaven. The light seemed awfully bright, but that was only because they were currently in pitch black. In reality, the light was shockingly dim; it was the light of the moon filtering in through the dirt-covered windows. They stepped back into the small shed again and Quin breathed a sigh of relief to be back above ground. Zim was grinning, his eyes taking in the different environment.

It must have been a long thirteen years.

The platform slid back into the wall and the filing cabinet appeared in its place. It was almost like they'd never been underground, except for the sudden appearance of an Alien, a robot and several other pieces of advanced technology, currently resting in Chyme's bag.

Chyme lugged the robot to the door of the shed and pushed it open, staring around at the backyard of the Membrane estate. She nodded at them to follow and stepped outside. Quin (still carrying Zim) and Maize quickly followed.

The first thing both Quin and Zim noticed once they got outside was that it was freezing. Quin no longer had his jacket, and Zim obviously wasn't used to this sort of temperature. Maize relocked the padlock and snuck after them, looking quite proud of herself. Quin ignored the chilly night air gnawing at his hands and cheeks and the fact that his nose had gone numb. He ignored the fact that Maize and Chyme were yards ahead of him already and that Zim was slowly wearing him down. He ignored the pounding of his head, which somehow managed to be in perfect sync with his frantic heartbeat.

Instead he focused on Zim's hissing breath, and his own footfall on the grassy hill. The back door of the house loomed closer and closer until he was finally upon the back step. Out of the corner of his eye Quin saw Maize holding the door open for him as he charged inside, but his main attention was on Chyme who had the kitchen phone up to her ear. Her face was pale and she looked like she was having trouble speaking.

Quin felt his heart freeze as he realised something was wrong. With a gulp he dropped Zim to the floor of the hallway and ran into the kitchen. Chyme was breathing heavily, and as her eyes locked onto Quin's, he saw panic in them. He yanked the phone away from her and instantly started talking into the receiver.

"Hello? This is the Membrane residence, how can I help you?"

"We know you have the Alien, Membrane."

The voice was low, male and threatening.

"I'm sorry, what? Who is this?" asked Quin, although he felt his voice was shaking.

"Don't play games. We know what you've done and we won't allow it. Now you listen well, Membrane, you don't want any trouble-"

That was the last Quin heard before he slammed the phone down, panting. He looked at Chyme again and she was almost in tears. The phone rang again and Quin pulled it out by the plug. It didn't matter who it may have been, he wasn't in the state to answer it.

"Who was it?" Quin asked Chyme.

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking. Quin dug his shaking hands into the fabric of his tracksuit pants. He didn't know what to say or do. What **were** they meant to do now? They should have had a better plan. Quin felt angry at himself for being dragged into this mess.

Maize stumbled to the doorway.

"Zim looks sick," she said, "who was on the phone? Was it Mum and Dad? Are we in trouble?" The questions poured from her mouth. He could tell she was frightened. So he did what all good big brothers do in that sort of situation. He lied.

"No," said Quin, "they had the wrong number. Why don't you go up to bed, okay? Get changed and maybe Chyme will read you a story, eh?"

"Alright," said Maize, although she looked a little suspicious. She left the room. Quin didn't even want to look at Chyme in case he burst into tears. He didn't want to ponder the call, or wonder if he or his family were now in danger.

Was it a scientist from his Father's work? How did they know? Should they take Zim and run? Was Dib on his way home right now?

But Quin knew that he wouldn't leave his home. Where would he go? He had no friends and Chyme's friends all lived quite a while away. Instead of running, Quin walked slowly into the hallway again where Zim was sitting, propped up against the wall looking miserable.

"Do you want food? What do... erm, Aliens eat?"

"I don't need food," said Zim, "Zim needs rest. The Pak is restoring my health, although it may take a few days. Where can I stay hidden and fix Gir?"

"My room," said Quin without thinking, "Dad never goes in there if he can help it."

Getting Zim upstairs was harder than Quin had ever thought. He was only managing to coax his muscles into working this late at night, and Zim's constant cursing didn't help. The Alien seemed to have recovered the use of his vocal muscles fairly quickly and several times his voice boomed out through the house. Quin thanked the stars that it was only Chyme, Maize and himself in the house; although he was afraid the neighbours might hear.

"Really," said Quin as he reached the top stair, half carrying, half dragging Zim, "would you stop complaining? All you've done so far is complain and say I have a big head. It's not that big!"

"Zim will complain if Zim wants too!"

"And stop talking about yourself in the third person!"

"Puny human with a dramatically oversized head! You will not order **Zim** around!"

"You just did it again! I'm not carrying you unless you apologise for saying I have a big head! "

"Fool! Zim will never apologise! Never!"

"Then you can get yourself down the hall to my room. I refuse to drag you any further."

"No! Come back, Quin-pig! I require your assistance!"

"Too bad, I'm not helping unless you apologise."

"NEVER!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Chyme stormed out of Maize's room and slammed the door. She glared at them for a long moment, eyes blazing and arms crossed. Quin instantly shut his mouth. Zim did too. "It's midnight! Do you know how loud you were being? Quin, help Zim get to your room. Zim, leave Quin's head alone. It isn't his fault it's so large."

Quin felt like he was being lectured by a school teacher. Obediently, Quin picked up Zim again and stumbled towards his room. He placed Zim by his cupboard and immediately began searching for some old clothes. He found some faded cargo shorts and a red T-shirt. He threw them at Zim and ignored the Alien's mutters of annoyance.

Quin got changed in the bathroom, not wanting to spend any more time with Zim than necessary. Even after saving him, Quin wasn't too sure of him. What had Zim done to warrant his Father's dislike so much? Had he done anything? Perhaps being an Alien was enough for Dib Membrane to lock him up for thirteen long years?

Quin walked back into his room to find Zim asleep on to carpeted floor, wearing the cargo shorts and jacket, but not the t-shirt. Perhaps he couldn't stand having to wear **three** articles of human clothing? Aliens did wear clothes, right? Quin walked back into the corridor and walked to Chyme's room. Chyme was asleep already, probably exhausted. The robot was resting at the door to Quin's room, and with another moan, he proceeded to move it to beside Zim's sleeping body. The green Alien looked strangely peaceful and childlike, even though Quin suspected he was much older than thirteen. He supposed everybody looked innocent in their sleep.

He quickly checked Maize was actually asleep (which she was) and returned to his room, turning the light off.

His brain was spinning, with much to worry about, but in all his panic, he fell straight asleep. He didn't spend time pondering the phone call, and the threatening tone of the man on the other end. He didn't spend time wondering how his day would have ended if he never went down into that lab and was blissfully unaware of Zim. He didn't spend time feeling extremely stupid for not having a plan. He didn't spend time wondering what would happen next. Instead, he dreamt.

That night Quin dreamt of several things. He dreamt of aliens crouching in corners crying. He dreamt that Maize was in Zim's place, connected to tubes and monitors and that his Mother and Chyme were crying around her. Then Chyme turned to him and blamed him for it all, because he was the one that answered the phone. Then she disappeared and Zim took her place, speaking in a low male's voice, definitely not his own. He dreamt of his Grandfather that he'd never met; throwing books at him because he'd spilt tank goo on his favourite jacket. Quin dreamt of newspapers proclaiming disasters, each bearing the same date.

He didn't remember most of that, though.

What he did wake up with on his mind, though, was the date.

The same date over and over, bearing so much importance in several different ways.

**July 3****rd****.**

* * *

**Hi guys. Hope you enjoyed this chapter... What does the date mean? And who was the person on the other end of that call?**

**Thank you to the people who reviewed. I do know where I'm going with this story (vaguely) so bear with me. **

**Also if anyone has any ideas on how I should bring GIR in, that'd be good too. I'm up for suggestions.**

**Review! Review!**

**-Mimi :)**


	4. Chapter 4

The last time Quin had had such a restless night's sleep was the night before getting his Skool results back. He had been anxious, and had hardly slept all night.

Quin had definitely slept this time, but his sleep was so riddled by dreams and nightmares that his head still ached when he woke. He rolled over and moaned, wishing that the strange memories in his mind were no more than a dream. When he sat up, though, and saw the green alien lying on his bedroom floor, he sighed.

He'd be truly blessed if there were no such thing as Zim.

Quin made his bed and threw on some clothes. He could hear voices downstairs. Chyme would probably already be awake, snooping around to see if they'd been discovered. Quin closed his bedroom door quietly so as to not wake Zim. He jumped three stairs at a time in his hurry, wincing as his ankles and legs took most of the impact. He skidded along the hallway to the kitchen, glancing out the window to see teams of scientists and what looked like FBI agents on the lawn surrounding the shed. His own Father, however, was seated at the kitchen table, his hands around a mug of coffee as he stared dismally at the wall. Whoever had been talking earlier had left.

"What's going on? Why are you home so early? Why are there people outside? Is everything okay?" Quin felt his stomach clench as he made a show of being confused. He wasn't a bad liar, on the contrary he was quite good, but this was his _Father!_ He'd surely be able to tell if Quin was lying.

"It's a long story. Also, it's twelve in the morning. You've slept most of the day away, Quin," Dib smiled glumly at his son.

"How late did you stay up last night?" asked Zita, his Mother, walking into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

"Not too late," answered Chyme, walking into the kitchen in her dressing gown, violet hair stuck up in strange ways.

"Really? Then you're only gracing us with your presence now, why?"

"I like sleeping," was Chyme's answer. Zita huffed and stalked upstairs, hopefully to go check on Maize. She wouldn't go into Quin's room, right?

"So why are there people outside?" asked Chyme casually, sitting down across from her Uncle.

"Well," said Dib, probably measuring out the chances of Chyme finding out on her own, "I have something to tell you two. You know that Alien that I found thirteen years ago? The one that made me famous?"

Quin and Chyme nodded obediently, although Quin could easily see the rebellious gleam in her eyes.

"Well, he never died. He's been kept hidden from the world in my laboratory; you know the one. He escaped last night."

"What?" gasped Chyme, and Quin almost kicked her for being so obvious. Quin, however, was quite a few feet away from her and it would have looked rather suspicious.

"He escaped, and I have my best men investigating it right now," pressed Dib, obviously mistaking what Chyme's shock was about.

"But you lied about it?" she said, her whole demeanour was keen on getting Dib to feel bad. It filled Quin with a sickening feeling... Chyme was being arrogant. What if he did the wrong thing in helping her to capture Zim? Had Quin been stupid to think that his Father would capture the Alien for no reason? Dib Membrane was the smartest man he knew; he'd have a reason for sure.

"I didn't lie," said Dib, "I just didn't think it was appropriate for you to know. Zita knew. Most of my colleagues were under the impression that Zim had been destroyed. You were only small then, Chyme, you wouldn't remember; the hype over Zim's capture! People who went to school with me all started getting interviewed, saying that they thought he was an alien all along, which is an utter lie. People were attempting to break into the labs; animal protection societies, Fan girls, other scientists. Some Paranormal groups were, as well; the Swollen Eyeballs was a dominant one. They all wanted this Alien. After a while we finished... examining Zim... so we said we destroyed him, that he died. We bluffed our way out of everything. And I hid him."

Dib seemed to be far off, reminiscing, and he looked a little sad as he took a sip of coffee. Chyme wouldn't give up that easily, though.

"But we're living here! Quin and Maize have been living over an Alien their whole lives!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. Quin wondered if she'd been planning this out in her mind for a while now, belittling Dib Membrane. She seemed to think she was winning. Personally, Quin thought she looked a fool. Dib seemed to decide he was going to put her foot down now.

"You're only a child, Chyme. Don't act like you know better. Zim's probably miles away by now. If he's smart he won't even be on Earth by this point. There's nothing to worry about, is there?"

**The phone call**, Quin thought. He was worried about that. But he could hardly tell his Father, could he? Chyme had a sour look on her face. Quin was taken aback to see hatred in her eyes when she glared at Dib.

"At least I know I would never keep an innocent creature locked up!" she hissed and wheeled around, back towards the stairs. Quin and Dib waited in silence for her bedroom door to slam. Then Quin looked to see how his Father would react to the petty jibe.

Dib was staring at his mug of coffee. His brown eyes were sad.

"Gaz did a good job on her," he said.

"What?"

"Never mind, Quin," Dib sighed, "Look; you know that Chyme is being stubborn. I didn't mean any harm by keeping Zim a secret from you guys."

Quin nodded but inside he was screaming at his father; _you kept him locked up! How could you not mean any harm by that?_

Dib took another sip of coffee.

"Quin, I know that we don't talk much. But you do need to be honest with me right now. Did you, or Chyme, have anything to do, or do you know anything about Zim's disappearance?"

If it were a matter of his loyalty to either his Father or cousin, then the choice would be fairly easy. If it were a matter of confiding in his Father to annoy Chyme, who was being fairly stupid, then Quin would have made the choice in a heartbeat. He would have replied yes.

But this was about Zim. This was gambling with Zim's life. Despite having known the little green Alien for no time at all, Quin knew he didn't deserve this.

"No," he said, "no, I don't."

Quin turned to leave, heading towards the staircase, but Dib's voice stopped him.

"It's the third of July today, you know?"

**The third of July. July 3****rd****.**

"Oh," said Quin, coming to a halt at the foot of the stairs, "so it is."

The third of July was a day of national anguish. It marked the day that the city of Stateston was engulfed in flames. That was fourteen years ago today.

The matter had been explored many times through topics at Skool. No one knew the exact cause, for there were many that brought about the ruin of Stateston. Fires breaking out all over the city, rioters, the subways caving in, and bombs; all happening instantaneously. It only took a few hours for the city to be burnt to the ground.

It was one of the worst tragedies in decades. The newspapers went mad with the amount of damage done. The amount of people killed. Chyme had only been a month old when that happened. According to Chyme, that was why their Grandfather went mad. Dib and Gaz had grown up and gone to Skool in Stateston. Although they had long moved out from their childhood home, Quin's Grandfather had still been living there. He was in his private lab when the chaos started. Because of its underground location, he hadn't been physically hurt, except for smashing his head on his bench.

His memory had been affected, though. What was once a brilliant scientist became a forgetful old man. He'd died only a year afterwards, long before Quin was born.

July third was meaningful in other ways though.

Fourteen years ago, on July 3rd, was the mark of loss. Thirteen years ago, on the exact same date, was the mark of celebration.

Quin's feet carried him upstairs, to his room. He shut the door behind him, locking eyes with Zim who was sitting by Gir, wires and cords in his hands.

Thirteen years ago, Zim had been captured.

Now, again on July third, Zim had escaped

"What's the situation, human worm baby?" he asked, his red eyes staring intently at Quin.

"There are scientists investigating. Chyme and Dad had a sort of fight when Dad told us that you were alive and had escaped. He seems to think you would be ages away from here."

"I would have thought I would be too," said Zim, crawling over to Quin's chest of drawers, where he managed to stand himself up, his legs shaking.

"How are you doing that?" asked Quin in amazement, "You shouldn't be able to walk for... I don't know; months." Zim looked quite happy with himself until he took a careful step and collapsed into a heap again.

"My Pak restores my health. It's repairing my muscles as well."

Quin looked at the strange little Alien and grinned. Zim dragged himself back to Gir's inanimate body and pulled out the wires he was fixing again. Quin watched as Zim pulled out a screwdriver, a waffle and a half-melted action figure from Gir's head.

"What are they doing in there?"

Zim didn't answer him. He was intent on fixing the little robot. Chyme opened the door with a bang, making Quin jump backwards and fall back onto his bed in shock. She slammed the door behind her, looking livid. She ignored Zim, just as he was ignoring her.

"Why didn't you back me up?" she asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

"Why would I? You were going to blow our cover!" It was starting to sound like a bad spy movie now.

"No I wouldn't have! I was trying to get your dad to see sense!"

"You were being stupid! He was the one being sensible!"

"What? By locking Zim up? How is that sensible?"

"I don't know," said Quin, glaring at his cousin, "Maybe? Maybe he had a reason?"

Zim was watching them now, probably because he was the topic of the conversation.

"What reason could he have?" hissed Chyme, her eyes narrowing.

"Get out of my room," snarled Quin. He didn't even want to talk to her. She glared at him, but obeyed, probably because she didn't want to look at Quin either.

The door slammed behind her. Quin stood staring at the door for a little while. From the corner of his eye he saw Zim return to working on Gir. Quin lay down on his bed and stared up at the roof where he'd stuck the giant poster he'd painted in water colour. It was a dragon, wings spread in flight. He'd only painted it very recently, and he was quite proud of it. Lying here now, however, his eyes pinpointed the spots he'd made mistakes. One of the dragon's legs was out of proportion with everything else. The shading around the left wing was off. This only put Quin in a worse mood.

He pulled out his sketchbook from under his bed and opened it to a fresh page. Drawing had always been able to calm him down. Now was no exception.

Quin seemed to draw on autopilot and it wasn't until he started to focus again that he realised he was drawing Zim. At least the Alien came in handy as some sort of drawing inspiration.

It was another few hours before the door opened again and Maize and Chyme walked in. Maize headed straight over to Zim, grinning at him. Zim seemed a little confused by Maize, but was polite enough.

"She's getting attached to him," said Chyme softly, looking at Maize as she pulled the same stuffed toy she had had last night out of Gir's chest cavity.

"What are we going to do? We can't keep Zim here, you know. Dad will find out eventually."

"I rang Mum," said Chyme, "she said she was getting here as soon as possible. She mentioned something about being here tonight. We'll have to sneak him out at night, then."

"I thought your Mum was away on business?"

"Oh, yeah," said Chyme, "Well that's what she said."

"She wasn't?" asked Quin, confused.

"I don't know," said Chyme mournfully, "I wondered if she just said that to Uncle Dib and Aunt Zita to get me here. She'd never be able to do it by herself. She needed me here to find out where they kept Zim. When I learnt about the secret lab, I figured he'd be kept there, wouldn't he?"

"Couldn't Aunt Gaz just talk to Dad? They're adults. Why rely on you?"

"They don't get on," said Chyme quietly.

"Yeah," pressed Quin, "but they're adults!"

"Sometimes there's just too much between two people to ever be like they once were. Mum and your Dad couldn't be friends again, I don't think. There's just too much time and pain separating them." It struck Quin how wise Chyme could be when she wasn't involved in the situation. He supposed all people could be like that; calm and sensible until their own prejudiced opinions came into it.

"They weren't friends," said Zim, still working, "they always fought."

"Zim," said Chyme, "could you tell us about our parents... how you met them... because I know that you went to school with them... but why?"

It was perhaps the strangest tale that Quin had ever heard; the tale of his Father and Aunt. Zim's words were mean and belittling of humans, of course, but they could all hear the truth under the harshness of his voice.

Dib and Zim had been enemies. Dib and Gaz had a troublesome relationship at best. Zim and Gaz had by far the strangest relationship. Zim was sent by his race to be an invader of Earth. It never worked in his favour, usually because of Dib.

"Eventually, I sort of... well, I eventually gave up. Not all at once," Zim said, "But slowly I just seemed to stop trying. I made occasional plans, to keep my Tallest satisfied... but to be honest; I don't think they cared much if I lived or died. Dib still tried to expose me for what I was, of course, but we were no longer enemies. We were sort of... acquaintances, you could say. We had a grudging respect for one another. Turned out I got on well enough with Gaz as well. Of course, at some point in early high school I had to disappear. I wasn't growing any further. It would have been suspicious. I stayed inside, instead. Sometimes I visited Dib-stink and little Gaz, just for something to do... I decided to travel. It was interesting how different places of Earth are completely different from one another; different languages and cultures. On Irk everything is the same."

Everyone watched with bated breath, waiting for Zim to finish his story. Zim cleared his throat and turned back to the robot, continuing to work on Gir. The robot's eyes flashed red for a moment, before fading back to nothing. Zim looked disappointed.

"I almost had it," he muttered to himself.

"Aren't you going to finish the story?" asked Chyme. Zim looked at her for a moment.

"No," he said, "no, I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

"Because that's where it all gets complicated... You don't need to hear the rest. Stuff happened and I ended up in that underground lab."

"What stuff?"

Zim never replied. His antennae drooped and he ignored their many questions. He was intent on fixing that robot.

Quin and Maize went downstairs to watch their Father negotiating with other scientists from the window. He was getting frustrated, throwing his hands around as he argued. It was strange how Dib didn't suspect Chyme or Quin of having anything to do with Zim's disappearance. After all, you needed some of Dib's DNA, which Quin was quite sure the other scientists didn't have. As they were watching, Dib marched back towards the house, an ugly look on his face.

"Ohhh, no, we're in trouble," moaned Maize, pressing the stuffed pig to her chest in a hug. Was she still carrying that around?

Dib came in through the back door and outside Quin could see the man he had been arguing with; he didn't look like a scientist that Quin had ever met. Who was he?

"Quin," said Dib, "last night; what happened?"

Quin wondered if he was meant to fess up about Zim. Maize, however, answered for him.

"We went on an adventure," she said, and Quin could almost kick himself. Of course Maize would blow their cover.

"An adventure?" asked Dib, squinting through his circular glasses. Maize pressed her finger to her lips.

"Shhh," she murmured, "it's a secret!" Quin felt his father's gaze on him, but he quickly looked down.

"What are you talking about? You didn't leave the house did you?" Dib questioned.

"Secret! Secret!" squealed Maize, pushing Quin away.

"We didn't leave the house," said Quin quickly, dragging his feet towards the staircase. Maize was laughing, probably because she didn't understand the depth of the situation. Dib was still watching them, frowning.

"It was just a game we were playing," Quin assured his Father, knowing that that was completely ridiculous. Quin never did anything with his sister if he could help it. On the rare days that they got along, Quin would never reduce himself to playing a stupid game. He would normally show her his drawings or read her a book. Once Maize had tried drawing with him. To Quin's relief she was quite awful at it, even for a seven year old. He didn't think he could stand it if she were better than him at what he loved most.

His Father, ever the one to overlook his children, overlooked this. There seemed to be something more pressing on his mind.

"Did you get a phone call last night?"

_**YES!**_

"From who?" Quin asked.

"I don't think they would have left a name. That man outside is known as Agent Darkbooty, from the Swollen Eyeballs. I'm surprised that he's still going with that stupid organisation... I believe he called here last night?"

"Someone did," said Quin slowly, "they didn't leave a name... they were being threatening, so I hung up."

"And that's why the phone was unplugged," said Dib, turning to look at the man outside the window. He was closer now, watching them with a grim look on his face. He was rather old, greying hair and wrinkles.

"He's creepy," said Chyme, standing on the stairs. Dib smiled briefly.

"Isn't he? I'm going to get rid of him, and the others. I don't think there's much we can do about Zim. I do want to find out who helped him get out."

"Someone helped him?" asked Chyme, never one to miss a cue.

"Oh, yes," said Dib, pausing at the open door, "he'd never get out by himself. He'd need someone awfully clever to get him out of there."

And Quin swelled with pride from the compliment that his Father had unknowingly given him.

* * *

Dinner was usually a morbid affair in the Membrane household. Quin would brood over his food, still bristling with anger from his most recent fight with Maize. Zita would be angry at Quin for fighting with his sister. Maize would look a little unhappy, but not too much, because their Mother was always on her side.

"_Why won't you grow up and-" Zita Membrane stopped herself suddenly, as though realising what she was going to say. Quin knew, though._

"_What, and be more like Maize?"_

"_I wasn't going to say that!"_

"_In case you can't remember, I'm the older one! Not Maize!_

"_I know-"_

"_I don't think you do. Sometimes I wonder if you forget you have a son!"_

"_Don't speak to me like that!" snapped Zita, "I'm your Mother and I deserve more respect!"_

Dib would have just come home from a day at work, or in his lab. He'd be unaware of the many fights that had gone on all day long. Instead, he'd try to make awkward conversation.

"_So, Quin, how was school?"_

"_School?" Quin asked, wondering if he should tell his Father his troubles. "Yeah, it was okay."_

"_Getting good grades?"_

"_I think so," it was strange how Dib was more concerned with marks than with wellbeing aspects of his son's life. How come he'd never been asked about his inexistent friends? _

"_And Maize, how are you?"_

"_Good," the seven-year-old chirped, beaming at her Father from her seat._

"_You know, you smile exactly like your mother," Dib commented. Zita smiled. Maize smiled. Dib smiled. Quin looked dejectedly at his meat. He pushed all the hate and sorrow he felt inside him into stabbing down with his fork, and tried to forget that his Family were even there._

But today, everything was different. Ever since Chyme had arrived, dinner had become livelier. Chyme and Quin would laugh and joke about things said earlier, leaving the rest of the family completely puzzled. The time they'd put snails in the others dinner was quite funny. Dib and Zita, however, had been livid. Quin was sure that they believed Chyme a bad influence on their son.

And add the tense atmosphere of Zim's escape to the table and the dinner was quite interesting.

"So," said Chyme. She usually preferred a discussion to silence if she could help it.

"So what?" asked a grinning Quin. They were eating spaghetti, the same food as when he and Chyme had put snails in. It was bringing back good memories.

"So, what's the situation with Zim?"

"Well, I've told everyone to leave," explained Dib, "the scientists and such can't work in the dark. There's no point either. It's been at least twelve hours since he escaped. He could be out in the galaxy by now."

"What if he contacts his leader?" asked Zita in a worried voice. Dib tilted his head to the side in thought.

"I don't think they'd do anything. They don't like Zim much."

The table was in silence again.

That wasn't the interesting part, of course. The interesting part came a few seconds later when there was a sharp squeal from upstairs.

"MASTAH!"

Everyone at the table froze. There a loud yell, evidently Zim's voice, and a loud thumping sound as something came down the stairs. There in the doorway, stood Gir, the robot. His once dull eyes were now a cyan colour and he had a stupid grin on his face. The robot's eyes suddenly narrowed on Maize, who was holding the stuffed toy pig to her.

"Mah Piggy!" the robot squealed in an extremely loud, metallic voice.

Quin's first thought was that this robot was damaged beyond repair.

His second thought was that if his Father got too angry, at least they now had a robot to aid in their escape.

* * *

**Well, this is the longest chapter yet. Dib and Zita are in this one, and hopefully you get a clearer view on what Dib is like now. And now Gir has shown up!**

**I should be able to update the next chapter in a few days. :) Review and tell me what you think!**

**-Mimi**

**(Oh, yeah I've already done this disclaimer sort of stuff, but i'll say it again; only Quin, Chyme and Maize belong to me. The rest belong to the brilliant ****Jhonen Vasquez)**


	5. Chapter 5

Dib didn't look mad, like Quin had predicted. Rather, he looked concerned and a little surprised.

"It was you, then?" asked Dib, his brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept. Strangely, instead of talking to Chyme, he was talking to Quin.

"Yes," said Quin stiffly, unsure of what to say. Chyme looked like she was itching for a fight. Gir, the robot, was inching towards Maize, who was staring at the robot with a look of equal curiosity.

Zim appeared at the foot of the stairs, half crawling, half staggering.

"Zim," Dib greeted cordially.

"Dib-filth," said Zim, equally as genially. Chyme and Quin glanced at each other. Were they missing something?

"Zim?" said Zita in a strangled voice, because, Quin remembered, she had been to school with Zim also.

"Teacher's pet," said Zim, obviously not remembering or bothering to use her name. Quin thought it was rather fitting for his Mother to be a teacher's pet.

"Zim," Dib warned, standing up from the table. Zim staggered his way over to Gir and leant against the robot.

"I'm confused," said the robot. If Quin didn't know better, he'd say that the robot seemed unhappy. Even its eyes and tone reflected this.

"Do you remember getting captured?" asked Zim impatiently, although fondness was evident in his tone.

"Mm," said the robot, appearing to be in thought, "Maybe... wait a minute!"

Everyone waited for the robot to express the sudden thought that had made him look so victorious. It was quite anticlimactic, then, when Gir said, "No, no I don't."

Zim gave him a blank look and turned back to Dib.

"I suppose you feel a fool, Dib? Your own kin turned against you?" Zim taunted a smug expression on his face.

"No, not really," said Dib with a smile, "I kind of figured they might be up to something. I should have known Gaz would be up to something, in sending Chyme. The only question is; why now?"

"I don't know. I didn't plan this. For once, the events of July the third are neither of our faults."

Dib's face turned serious at that.

"I suppose you expect me to let you go, huh?"

"No, I expect to attack you and leave you for dead, then come and enslave your planet," the sincerity of Zim's expression and tone made it sound all the more threatening. Quin felt a little afraid. Chyme's expression was slowly becoming more and more uncertain. Zita was slowly getting out of her seat and heading towards Maize, probably to usher her into a different room.

"You always did like to boast, didn't you, Zim?"

"As did you, filthy dirt creature. But what is there left to say when we have both achieved our goals?"

"Am I the only one confused here?" asked Gir at random. Both Chyme and Quin shook their heads. Then the robot bopped Zim on the head and appeared to smile, "Mastah, what's goin' on?"

"Is your robot broken?" asked Quin, voicing the thing that had (strangely) been bugging him most of all.

"No," said Zim, "He's working. I fixed him, didn't I?"

"He's misbehaving," pointed out Chyme, watching as Gir started humming and munching on some food off Maize's plate. Maize wouldn't need it though; she was already in the other room, safe with her Mother.

"I'd say this is extremely well-behaved for Gir," said Zim, shaking slightly, without the support from his robot.

Quin didn't have time to consider this, however, because the door was pushed open and in walked in someone who was unmistakably his Aunt Gaz.

"Mum!"

"Gaz?"

"Little Gaz!"

Gaz was definitely not little, though. She seemed to tower over Zim, and she glared as he addressed her as such. Dib looked confused and a little angry. Chyme was looking delighted. She ran to hug her Mother.

"Chyme," said Gaz in greeting, before turning to Zim. Zim looked at her. Quin was quite amazed at how innocent he could look with those big red eyes on full blast.

"You're older looking."

"You're stupider looking," said Gaz in a low tone, but sort of smiling.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Dib, looking less delighted to see her than he was to see Zim, "I assume you organised this?"

"Of course I did," Gaz said, squinting as she usually did. Quin thought it was from spending too much time playing and designing games.

"Well how did you know Zim was alive? I told you he was dead myself."

"You never destroyed his Pak," said Gaz, looking quite bored, "You may have disabled it, but with the right Irken equipment, you can track it. Why keep the Pak if Zim were dead? I knew the Alien was here. I did try to break in to that stupid shed one night, but I didn't have enough of your DNA, apparently. I needed Quin. So it was up to Chyme." From his cousin's expression, Quin could tell this was news to her too.

"You needed me?" said Quin angrily, standing up, "And I didn't get a say in this?"

"Hey," said Chyme, defending her Mother, "You broke into the lab!"

"I didn't know I was signing up for a rescue mission!" Quin protested feeling annoyed for never being told anything.

"Silence!" Zim yelled. Quin wondered briefly how such a little being could have such a loud voice. "How did you track my Pak?"

"Skoodge, that fat little alien your friends with, he found me. Said he'd tracked you here. Knew we'd been friends, needed help to get you out, so we formulated a plan."

Zim looked like he wanted to ask further questions, but Quin interrupted.

"How come you couldn't get into the lab? You and Dad would share as much DNA as Dad and I do. In fact, you'd share more."

Gaz stared at Quin for a few long seconds, as though sizing him up. Then she looked to Dib, who looked a little nervous.

"You never told him, did you, Dib?" she said, one of her eyes wider than the other.

Quin's stomach clenched.

"Never told me what?" he demanded. Gaz smirked at her brother. Chyme frowned and edged away from her Mother, standing beside Quin.

"You know what Dib," she said, "I'm not surprised. You were always a coward. When you found out from Dad, you hated him for ages. You still admired him, though, didn't you?"

"Gaz-" said Dib, avoiding his son's eyes.

"I'm surprised too, Dib," said Zim, his eyes narrowed, "You have become the one thing you hated the most, without even realising it."

Quin, trying to keep up with the rapidly flowing conversation, figured they were talking about Aliens. What else did his Father hate more? Nothing. But it still didn't fit.

"You've become your Father," said Zim, looking neither sad nor happy. Chyme was looking sort of sad. Quin felt anger boil inside him.

"What are you all talking about?" he yelled, fists clenched. Zim and Gaz suddenly looked at him with surprised expressions.

"Creepy," said Gaz, "Exactly like Dib."

"I'm not like Dib!" yelled Quin, face red.

"Not like; you are Dib," said Gaz. All the anger was swept from Quin in a heartbeat. He felt his throat choke up.

"W-what?"

"A clone," said Gaz, "that's what you are."

"What? No, no I'm not. What are you talking about?"

"It was an accident," said Gaz, her eyes glinting, "Dib didn't even mean to create you. He was mucking about in the lab, trying to regrow organs. And then boom; he accidently clones himself a whole baby. What else could he do but keep it?"

"Gaz," growled Dib, but he lacked conviction. Quin gaped.

"Gaz!" Zita was standing in the doorway, glaring, "Don't speak to Quin like that. Either shut up or get out. This is my house too! Don't think I won't throw you out!"

Quin felt like vomiting. His stomach was churning and his head was aching. This wasn't true, was it? Quin couldn't be a clone. He had been born; actually born. Zita was **his** Mother.

_He was flicking through an old photo album. It was amazing how much he looked like his Father when he was a child. Quin smiled as he saw a picture of his parents, laughing and smiling together. They hardly seemed to do that anymore. They looked young. This must have been before he was born. He turned the picture to see the date. It seemed like he stared at it for a full minute before he frowned._

"_Dad?" he yelled, walking down the hall to his Father's study._

"_Yes, Quin?"_

"_This photo," said Quin, brandishing the picture, "it's a month before I'm born. But Mum isn't pregnant."_

_Dib frowned and reached for the photo, staring at it, and then flipping it over to check the date. _

"_Must have dated it wrong," he said, but he looked a little troubled. Quin nodded, accepting it, but as he was walking down the stairs he felt a sense of uncertainty creeping up on him. How could you date a picture wrong? It's fairly simple, isn't it? But then he shrugged, knowing his Father could be a little strange at times. Maybe he was just distracted when he wrote that down._

No, thought Quin. That was the right date. But Zita had never been pregnant with Quin. And Dib had known that; he'd lied to him.

Why was Quin's life built on lies?

He could feel Gaz and Zita arguing around him, but he didn't want to listen. He didn't want to listen to any of them. No excuses to why they didn't tell him! He didn't want any of it.

Quin pushed past the robot blocking his way, startling it to jumping up and onto the small chandelier type light. Quin wondered briefly if the roof might cave it as he ran from the room. Blood was pounding in his ears, and he crashed against the back door, wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible.

It suddenly became clear to Quin that he wanted to be anything but his Father. He loved his Father dearly, but he wanted to be his own person.

Now it seemed like he would never be.

He ran round to the front of the house, the cold giving him Goosebumps on his arms.

It's funny how you can be so sure of the people around you, yet never yourself. Are the best people never sure of themselves, or do they know exactly who they are?

Does it matter either way?

Quin had often thought, if he ever did think deeply about these questions, that no one was quite sure of themselves. People act different ways around different people or situations. He supposed that's where Multiple Personality disorders sprung from; the different faces of one being. He knew that he was different around his cousin than he ever had been at school. He was more himself with his cousin. At school he was quiet and strange.

Stella, the girl who he supposed he was friends with, made him feel smaller. He was younger than her, but she seemed so often wise beyond her years that it only made him feel younger.

Around his sister, Quin acted superior. In his opinion, he was older; he deserved to be treated better. It was always Maize who got treated better, though. Sometimes he felt bad for thinking like that, though. It wasn't Maize's fault that everyone liked her better.

Suddenly things started to make sense to Quin. His Mother clearly wasn't his Mother, if he were but a clone of his Father. Only Maize was her child. She had obviously never felt like he was really her child.

The guilt he often caught in her eyes when he reminded her that she had a son as well. The pity. She felt bad; but what could she do?

Evidently treating him like a son was out of the question, wasn't it? Anger swelled inside Quin as he stood on the edge of the sidewalk, staring down the street. Should he run? Quin had never actually considered running away before. After all, where was there really to go? But now; all he wanted to do was punish his parents. If he run, they'd feel bad, wouldn't they?

"Boy! You're Membrane's son, aren't you?" said a voice and Quin recoiled as a few people emerged out of the shadows. Quin recognised the first one. Agent DarkBooty. Had they been hanging around all day? Quin felt instantly repulsed.

"Yeah," he said harshly. Agent DarkBooty seemed a little taken aback, but smiled none the less.

"We're looking for an Alien, boy. Seen one?"

"What's in it for me if I tell you?" If Quin were thinking rationally, he would be disgusted at himself. However, he wasn't thinking rationally. He felt invincible.

"We won't destroy you, how about that?" grinned one of the men besides DarkBooty, raising something that looked suspiciously like a gun. Quin's eyes widened, but he wouldn't let himself be scared.

"I don't think so. You want to take it up with my dad, he's inside."

DarkBooty paused, obviously expecting Quin to have cooperated. He stared at Quin and then his thin lips curled into a cruel smile.

"I don't think so," he said, mocking Quin's previous words, "I think you'll be a useful bargaining point. You see, boy, we want that Alien. Membrane's not been using it like it could be used. We could sell its organs for medicine, couldn't we, guys?" This was met with a collective cheer from the three other men behind him.

Paralysing fear overtook Quin's body. **Run! Run! **He screamed at himself. His hands shook, but he couldn't move.

"Scared now, are ya?" taunted the man with the gun. He looked notoriously thug-like; big and muscled.

"Don't," Quin said, stepping back a little. The man leered back. Quin turned to run, feeling a scream building up in his throat. But before he could yell for help, something hit him hard over the head and his world went dark.

Chyme Miz Wendell was a girl who followed her instincts. She was a defender of family and friends, always making sure she knew where her loyalty lied. It was rare of her to feel belittled in any way, and if she did, she pretended otherwise.

The situation at hand, though, was enough to confuse a fully grown adult. And Chyme was only fourteen, subject to change and overwhelming bursts of passion. The whole time her Mother was talking she sensed the bitterness in her tone. It astounded her. How could her Mother speak that way to Quin, who was by all means her favourite member of the Membrane family (minus her own Mother, of course)? Quin was only eleven. The words spilling from her Gazlene Membrane's mouth were fit for an adult.

The words themselves were something to panic about, certainly, but it was probably the glint of hatred in his Aunt's eyes that sent Quin spiralling over the edge. As Aunt Zita entered the room, Quin gave a desperate cry and ran, pushing past Gir and out the back door. Chyme would have run after him, but the robot was now clinging to the roof by the lighting chandelier, shooting lasers everywhere in its panic.

"No! Gir, stop!" Zim screamed as shiny, spider-like legs bursting from his Pak. Chyme gave a muffled cry of surprise and leapt back, pushing her Mother into the wall. Gaz Membrane scowled and yelled to Zim, grabbing her daughter by the arm. Chyme didn't disobey; she never disobeyed her Mother. Zim had leapt up onto the table, the legs boosting him up so he could grab Gir, who climbed onto his back, scared out of his wits.

Zim turned and began making his way towards Gaz, a look of determination in his alien eyes. Chyme saw Zita had backed off, bent over Maize who was bleeding from a wound in her arm. Chyme's brain was only quick enough to take this in; she couldn't grasp her head around the situation. Dib had run for the back door, searching for Quin. Gaz headed for the front door.

Chyme was pulled after her Mother, her heart beating too fast. Zim was yelling at Gir, who was screaming. Chyme couldn't tell if he were happy or frightened. How could anyone be happy in this amount of chaos?

Chyme was dragged towards the car parked out front, eyes still searching for the cousin that her Mother had cruelly ruined. Where was Quin?

"Get in the car, Chyme, we're leaving," Gaz ordered, pulling the door open. Chyme wrestled in her Mother's grip.

"Where's Quin? Quin?" Chyme called desperately into the darkness, fighting against her Mother. Gaz was strong, though.

"He's not our problem, he's Dib's!"

Chyme felt nothing but resentment when her Mother spoke. Finally her eyes saw the mass of dark shape, lighted up by one of the street lamps. Men; one of them was the creepy man from the lawn. And in their arms was...

"Quin! Quin! No!" Chyme was screaming now. Her Mother's grip tightened.

"Chyme!"

"No!" Chyme clawed and bit at her Mother's hands and Gaz released her with a disgusted sound. Chyme tore away from her, running with all her might at the men who were staring in shock.

Chyme Miz Wendell was a girl who followed her instincts. But sometimes, instincts just aren't enough. She saw the gun pointed at her head before she could stop.

She saw the shot go off but couldn't think of anything but Quin and the ridiculous harmony of both Dib and Gaz screaming out for them.

Then she saw no more.

* * *

**I'm afraid I've left you with the ultimate cliffhanger. **

**Wow, I am really not liking Gaz right now. What'll happen to Quin and Chyme? Is Chyme dead?**

**All will be answered soon.**

**I got this up much quicker than i thought, just because I had fun writing this. Hopefully you enjoyed reading this. :)**

**-Mimi out (peace)**


	6. Chapter 6

When Quin woke he was quite unsure of what was going on. He panicked when he found that he was lying on a damp floor, his hands tied with a coarse rope. His mouth was dry and the left side of his body was numb, from being lied on. For several long minutes he lay frozen, wishing with all his might that this was a dream and that he wasn't alone in the dark. Quin had always feared the dark. A smart person would point out that fear of the dark is simply fear of the unknown; fear of what might be hiding in the dark. Smart people probably wouldn't keep their heads in situations like this either.

He managed to get himself into a sitting position as the events of the past two days slowly made their way back to his mind. So the Swollen Eyeballs had him captive, as a bargaining point with his Father? Quin shivered as his mind brought to focus the horrible things that had happened to children when they were kidnapped. He felt the tears roll down his cheeks, and his body shook.

The only comforting thought he had was that he was pretty sure that the men were only interested in getting Zim.

Another cruel thought that haunted the back of his mind was that this was definitely making his parents feel bad. Then he reminded himself that Zita wasn't really his Mother.

He didn't have a Mother.

Quin decided that he could at least try and find a way out of this situation. He bit down on the rope, chewing and hoping that it might be thin enough to break. It wasn't. He pulled and bit and cursed all he liked, but the rope didn't come loose. He did find his glasses, though, laying a little way away from him. He jammed them back onto his face and hoped they weren't completely broken.

He wondered how long he'd been there for. Should he call out? Ask for food or water? He was feeling rather hungry. He hadn't eaten all of his dinner. His head hurt where he had been hit. His heart was still beating too fast. Every small noise made him twitch, although he was fairly certain that he was alone in the room. No one else had made a sound. He became still again and listened for breathing.

No, nothing. Quin sat there for many more long minutes, feeling every second tick by. He felt both calmer and more scared as time went on. What if his parents never came for him? Surely Chyme would convince them too. Would Zim feel it his duty to repay the debt? Quin **had **rescued Zim, after all.

Quin felt fear seize him when a sudden burst of light caused him to squint. There was a door on the far side of the room, and a person was standing in the doorway.

"Oh, you're awake?" Quin didn't recognise the voice, but it sounded like a young man's. "Get up, won't you? We don't want to look after you any longer than we have too. The Alien's arrived, you're leaving."

Quin's eyes widened and he felt relieved. He was leaving! But could he trust these people? Still, anywhere was better than this prison type cell. Quin struggled to stand with his hands tied, but he did eventually manage it. The young man standing at the door looked impatient, but also sort of pitying. Quin stumbled his way over to this man and followed him up the many corridors he was led. Quin didn't even think to keep track of where he was going, and he soon realised it wouldn't matter either way. He wouldn't remember the complicated twists and turns the man was taking them on.

Everything looked the same; the doors, the high windows that Quin couldn't see out of, the floor, the staircases.

Finally they were led into a high ceilinged room, which looked something like a school cafeteria, only the windows were placed much higher up. Again, Quin could only see sunlight filtering in through them. At least he knew it was day.

Agent DarkBooty was standing in the middle of the hall, a smug look on his face.

"Your Father caved in easily, as I thought," He sneered, "the Alien will be here shortly."

Quin wondered if Agent DarkBooty was thinking through the consequences of this situation. Surely, since Quin had seen his face, DarkBooty would go to jail. Or perhaps his life was so underground orientated that it didn't matter.

"The Alien's here, DarkBooty," announced a female voice. A woman was leading a squat little green thing towards them. Quin instantly knew that it wasn't Zim. The Alien was clearly of the same race; he was green, red-eyed with the same antennae and Pak; but it wasn't Zim. This Alien was far shorter and fatter. He looked terrified, but still braved a smile at Quin. Quin decided not to say anything for the moment.

"How do we get rid of the kids?" asked the woman, staring at Quin. DarkBooty shrugged.

"Dump 'em on the street."

But there was only one of Quin; why were they talking in plural? Oh, had they captured Maize? Not little defenceless Maize!

"What are you-" Quin started, but as another door opened and two Swollen Eyeball agents entered, his words faltered in his mouth. "Chyme," he whispered. _Chyme_, not _Maize. __**Chyme.**_

They had Chyme. She was still as they placed her on the table, not moving. Quin saw the little Alien's expression turn angry.

"What did you do to her?" he said, in a voice that wasn't Zim's.

"Nothing," answered DarkBooty, "she'll be fine. We only stunned her."

The feeling of relief that spread through Quin was most welcomed. She was only stunned... Not dead.

"Okay," said DarkBooty, staring at the Alien with a malicious glint in his eyes, "that's settled then. Take the children out and dump them somewhere. Lead the Alien down to the dissection room."

"I don't think so," said the Alien, somewhat smugly, "you see, I'm not keen on dissection."

"I don't think that's really up to you," answered DarkBooty. The Alien blinked.

"Actually," he said, "It is."

Quin was hardly able to comprehend as four spider-like silver legs shot from the Alien's Pak. He watched as two of the legs picked up Chyme's limp body and the other two slashed at the five agents. DarkBooty looked murderous, barking orders into some sort of communicative device.

"Quin! Go!" yelled the Alien, using the two legs that had been attacking the agents to hoist himself into the air. Quin didn't need telling twice. He ran as fast as he could, hands bound and legs weak. He thanked his lucky stars that he didn't trip. He pushed against the large double doors and found himself in another corridor. The Alien was close behind, Chyme still in the robotic arms. He kept skidding, probably because he was only carrying himself with two of the silver legs instead of four. He barked orders at Quin, telling him directions as they flew down the corridors.

"Up the staircase!" he yelled, and Quin could hear the yells of agents in the distance. Quin tripped up on the stairs, bashing his knees against the concrete floor. Tears sprung in his eyes, but the Alien was relentless in his actions.

"Up! Up! Go!" he ordered and Quin had to follow, scrambling on his hands and knees. Quin watched as the Alien returned to his own feet, juggling Chyme with a few arms and pushing open the door with another. It all seemed like some sort of strange dream. Sunlight burst in through the open door and Quin followed the Alien out. They were standing in some sort of forest. The door to the organisation looked just like a camp toilet. It was completely abandoned. There wasn't a person in sight. A good spot for a secret organisation, of course.

"This way!" yelled Quin, pointing towards a line of trees. The Alien followed, probably because he didn't have a better idea. They ran, twisting between trees and jumping roots. Quin was slowly wearing, knowing that the burst of adrenaline that had overcome him was going to fade quite soon. Eventually he stopped, collapsing behind a large boulder in a head. The Alien was quick on his tail, placing Chyme down on the dead leaves and bracken between them.

"Who are you?" Quin asked almost instantly. Could he trust this Alien?

"My name is Skoodge," said the Alien, frowning over Chyme.

"Oh. I think Aunt Gaz might have mentioned you." Then Quin felt his throat go dry; thinking about his Aunt and her spiteful words hurt.

"Yeah, well, since the humans didn't know what Zim looked like, I was sent to rescue you guys." Skoodge pulled a pair of scissors from his Pak and began hacking away at the rope that was tied around Quin's hands.

Chyme's breathing was blatantly obvious now. She seemed to be slowly waking up, moving ever so slightly. Quin was worried for her, of course, but he wanted to know more about this little Alien.

"How come Zim didn't rescue us?" Quin asked. Skoodge stared at him blankly, as though the answer was blatantly obvious. The rope fell away.

"Zim's still injured," he said. Quin didn't reply, instead watched as Chyme's fingers curled around thin air.

"So you're friends with Zim, then?"

"Yes. I stayed here on Earth with him for many years, and travelled with him. I was called back to Irk, though, right before Zim destroyed that city."

"What?" asked Quin sharply, eyes narrowed on Skoodge.

"July the third," said Skoodge, "you must have heard of it. It's a famous human event."

"Yes," Quin said hurriedly, "Of course I've heard of it. But what does Zim have to do with it?"

"Everything," said Skoodge, "Zim was the reason for the third of July. He was the reason Stateston fell."

"_Mum told me that Grandpa went mad because of the Stateston disaster," said Chyme quietly. She and Quin were sitting against the staircase railing, their legs swinging out from the edge. It was late afternoon and Maize was out at a friend's party. It was a solemn day; the anniversary of Dib's Father's death. _

"_What?" enquired Quin, looking at his cousin. Her hair was tied up for once; a black ribbon tied in a bow was holding it there. It was a sign of respect. _

"_He was in his lab. He hit his head. His mind became a mess. That's how he went from a genius to mad."_

_Quin and Chyme watched as Dib paced the kitchen, a frown etched into his brow._

"_That's why he hates July the third so much, huh? That must be awful, losing your Father to madness."_

"_Mum said he was brilliant before the accident," said Chyme, swelling with pride at the thought of their world-famous Grandfather. Quin smiled too._

Quin bit his lip. What had he done in freeing Zim?

"_**For once, the events of July the third are neither of our faults."**_

Fourteen years ago; Zim destroyed Stateston, finally achieving the destruction he had always dreamed of.

Thirteen years ago; Dib Membrane successfully captured and proved that Zim was an Alien, fulfilling his own life-long dream.

"_**But what is there left to say when we have both achieved our goals?"**_

Everything seemed to make sense. Why would Dib feel like Zim deserved to be locked up, after so many years of peace? Because Zim had basically killed his own Father, that's why.

But why would Zim destroy Stateston? What was there to gain from that?

"Quin?" whispered Chyme, peering through almost shut lids.

"Chyme," said Quin, "Chyme, are you okay?"

"I think so," she said, "what happened? Where are we?"

"Skoodge helped us escape," Quin gestured towards the little alien that was smiling at Chyme. She sat up, rubbing her temples.

"They shot me. I'm not dead, though?" Chyme sounded sort of surprised.

"It stunned you," said Quin, "Although it was like no gun I'd ever seen."

"It is Irken machinery," explained Skoodge, "they've been stealing from Dib Membrane's labs for quite a time now. They only knew that Zim was actually alive because they intercepted one of my tracking beams. They're going to be angry, now."

"But how did I get here? I doubt either of you carried me," said Chyme, making a valid point. Quin wasn't particularly strong, and the Alien was tiny, even shorter than Zim.

"Like so," said the Alien, the mechanical legs shooting from his Pak. Chyme's eyes widened and she grinned.

"Awesome! That's what Zim's Pak did last night!"

"What? Zim can do that too?" Quin asked.

"All Irkens can."

"So I carried him from the lab for no reason? Ergh," Quin moaned. He wasn't in a terribly good mood. He supposed it had something to do with finding out you were a clone of your Father, being kidnapped because of the Alien you rescued the day before, finding out that exact alien had destroyed a city and then finding out that the same alien had been able to carry himself the entire time. He wasn't sure how much worse it could be.

"Mum's going to kill me," moaned Chyme, "I got shot and kidnapped."

**Shouldn't she be relieved to see you alive?** That was Quin's train of thought, anyway. Skoodge seemed to agree with Chyme, though, for he looked at her pitifully.

"I'm not exactly sure where we are, but we should definitely move if we want to live."

"They aren't going to kill us, are they?" asked Quin, before feeling quite stupid, because they were probably going to kill Skoodge. Skoodge, however, fixed him with another of his looks.

"No," he said, "I rigged the base with explosives. If my timing skills are correct, then that base is likely to explode in a few minutes."

Chyme and Quin glanced at each other and then at Skoodge again. Skoodge didn't seem to see anything wrong with this. Quin was slightly amazed that he could have rigged the place while they were running, but as far as he could tell, there seemed to be no limit to what these little Irken invaders could do. Chyme was staring at the ground nervously, tapping it with her foot. Quin stared at it as well. How far along did the Swollen Eyeball's base run? Was there a bomb ticking away under his feet?

"We could be standing on a bomb. Do we know how far the passages go for?" asked Chyme of Skoodge. He shook his head.

"No, we don't. That's why I suggested we move." Quin resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and grabbed his cousin's hand and helped her too her feet. Skoodge was already running ahead.

"Your hand is shaking," said Chyme, frowning and looking at his hand. Quin stared at it as well. He hadn't realised just how much he'd been shaking.

"I'm just scared, I guess."

"Sometimes I wish I never caught you up in this," said Chyme. Quin felt his face flush as he pulled her along into a fast walk. Now she was treating him like a child? He was only three years her junior. He was going into his last year of Primary Skool when term started again. And he had clearly shown he could cope with a lot of stress...

"Don't say that," said Quin, "not your fault."

"No, I've wrecked your whole life. Turns out you're a clone, an Alien has been living under your house your whole life... your Mother isn't even your Mother!" Chyme's voice was rising dramatically, and Quin just hoped she wouldn't start crying. He thought he heard yells and barks in the distance. The Swollen Eyeballs had dogs? What sort of crazy organisation were they?

"Chyme, come on," he muttered, interrupting their heart to heart chat. Skoodge was gone from their vision. It was just forest ahead. Quin and Chyme started running. Soon the trees grew denser and denser. Pine trees sprung up from places unseen. Quin felt his breath come in huge gasping rasps. He was growing tired already and Chyme hardly looked like she was sweating. He **really** needed to do more exercise.

"Quin, what's that?" Chyme said, coming to a stop a few yards away from a particularly large pine tree. That, however, wasn't what she was talking about; it was the twisted clump of metal resting underneath it.

"I think," said Quin, panting as he stared at it, "It's a bicycle."

"What's a bicycle doing out here?"

Quin just shook his head, signalling that he couldn't talk when he was trying so hard to breathe. Chyme continued looking around. Quin paused after he had caught his breath. He almost hadn't been able to hear anything over the sound of his thrumming heartbeat. Now, however, the dogs and the shouts sounded much more distant. If Quin tilted his head a certain way, he could almost convince himself that he'd imagined it.

He continued to stare at the ground, now, because something else had caught his eye. He bent down and pried it from the ground with his fingertips. It was old, dirty and rusted but it was recognisable as the lid for a tin can. It was landfill, but definitely strange to find out in the woods. Just like the bicycle. Quin looked at the ground around him and spotted something wedged under the rusted bicycle that made his heart rate pick up; A piece of burnt, charred plastic. Small, no larger than his hand, but it was definitely plastic.

"Chyme?" he called, walking around the large pine to search for her, but what he saw made his jaw drop.

It was the ruins of a house. There had obviously been no roof for several years, the walls were gone in some places, and the highest they got was about Quin's shoulder. The inside looked like it was filled with rubble and Quin even saw a few plants growing through the gaps. Bricks lay scattered about, along with remains or plaster and concrete and several bits of random metal objects. It looked as if it had exploded and then been left for an awfully long time.

Quin moved around the house, taking in the rotted wood on what had once been the front porch. The doors and windows were long gone. Quin's eyes widened as he stepped onto something that definitely wasn't dirt or leaves.

It was concrete... was this a sidewalk? Why would a destroyed house in the middle of the forest have a sidewalk?

Quin startled as he heard the sound of a scream. It was Chyme. He ran, following the sidewalk to the sound of Chyme's voice. She was standing in front of another house, with almost exactly the same symptoms as the first. Quin barely had time to take in the roads and the remains of other houses he could now see in the distance. Chyme was staring at something on the ground. Something she had clearly dug out of the earth, as her hands were covered in dirt, probably because she'd seen the top of it and wondered what it was.

It was a human skull, charred and blackened. It was sickening, and Chyme was clearly horrified. She was standing several feet away from it, her face aghast and her eyes wide. Quin was suddenly able to put two and two together.

"I know where we are," he said, turning around to face the road, looking out over the destructed town. The name rolled off both his and his cousin's tongue at the same time.

And that was how Quin Membrane and Chyme Wendell came to be in Stateston, fourteen years and a day after it was consumed in flames.

* * *

**Well, here's another chapter. Review and tell me what you think... **

**Skoodge was in this one; I didn't know exactly how to write him, so I did as best as I could.**

**I've been stressed with Exams and stuff... for some reason teachers pile on the homework when you should be studying...**

**Anyways, that's all from me for now,**

**-Mimi XD**


	7. Chapter 7

Quin, for some reason, had never thought about Stateston as being an actual place, despite the fact it was where his parents met and grew up. It was more like a mystical piece of folklore, often the topic the teacher was talking about, yet never a real thing. It had all happened so long ago, that Quin often failed to remember that it had happened at all.

He had never expected it to look like this.

Desperate for a better look, Quin approached one of the less daunting pine trees and began to climb, feeling repulsed as pine sap spread over his palms. He climbed higher and higher, not stopping long enough to look down at the ground. By the time he was sure he was several metres from the ground, he looked away from the trunk and down, and felt his gut wrench. He was much higher than he had originally thought. Chyme was a little violet and pink splodge on the ground... no wait; that was his glasses slipping from his eyes. He almost slipped as he hurried to catch them, and clung tightly to the trunk, eyes pulled shut tight.

"Be careful!" Chyme called, her voice sounding closer than she looked, "What can you see?"

Quin slowly turned himself on the branch he was kneeling on and turned to look out over the remains of Stateston.

In fourteen years, one would have expected plants of all sorts to be thriving, free of toxic fumes and waste for miles around. However, this was not the case most of the times. There were places, mostly around the edges of the city, that were basically forest again, but for the ruined buildings poking through the trees. There was a giant circle, however, that was completely lifeless. It was rubble and blackened soot, from what Quin could see. It wasn't quite the centre of Stateston, since he knew that the centre of Stateston had been filled with skyscrapers of all sorts. The circle of rubble looked as though it had been a normal suburban area.

Quin took his time climbing down, his heart leaping in his throat. He scraped his hands across the trunk of another tree, not a pine, and managed to get all the sap off.

"Well, what did you see?" Chyme said, looking out over the few streets they could see from the ground.

Quin explained it to her as best as he could, but it wasn't very convincing. She would probably have to see for herself.

"Do you want to go check it out?" he asked, feeling strange for being the one to entice adventure, since it was usually Chyme that did so. Chyme shrugged and started walking.

"There's nothing else to do but wait for those people to blow up."

As if on cue, there was a loud booming sound from behind then and they fell as tremors shook through the earth. It was a few moments before it stopped and the air in the distance was filled with smoke.

"Oh," said Chyme, "Perfect timing." Quin tried not to think of all the innocent people that had just lost their lives in there, but he kept seeing the face of the young man who had led him from his Prison, the one who may have looked at him with slight pity. Now he was dead.

"At least that DarkBooty guy is gone," said Chyme quietly, frowning as the smoke rose higher still, mushrooming. It looked like the after effect of a nuclear explosion.

"I guess that's what happened to Stateston," said Quin, taking a hesitant step forward onto the cracked road. If those were Skoodge's explosives, then it made sense that Zim would have had some of the same sort. Did people on the outskirts of Stateston watch a giant mushroom cloud of gas as they died? Chyme shrugged, walking along with him, her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

"Maybe, but that was Skoodge's explosives; they're probably really powerful alien explosives."

It was then that Quin remembered his cousin knew nothing of Zim's destruction of Stateston. It was an incredibly foolish venture to then go and reveal this to her. Yet, he still did so. Chyme's face contorted and she stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the road. Even though they were in the remains of a city, undisturbed for 14 years, standing in the middle of the road made Quin's stomach squirm.

"What?"

"Skoodge **told **me," said Quin indignantly.

"It doesn't mean it's true," snapped Chyme, briskly walking past him. Quin hurried to catch up with her.

"It **is **true! We helped a murderer!" Quin insisted, stumbling against the rubble. Chyme didn't say anything for a long moment, still walking much too fast for Quin.

"Mum mustn't have known about that," she said, "she wouldn't want me to help a murderer, right?"

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, but Quin couldn't help but disagree with his cousin. Gaz was selfish; he knew that as much as anything. His Father often said it, whenever they were on the topic of Chyme or Gaz (when Chyme wasn't around, obviously) and Quin was quite sure Zita didn't like her much either. Zita would frown when Gaz's name was mentioned, or when Chyme boasted about her Mother's worldwide gaming empire.

"_You don't like Aunt Gaz, do you?" asked nine year old Quin, standing at the doorway of his parents room. Zita was sitting by her dressing table, frowning at herself in the mirror. She glanced up at Quin and the frown disappeared. _

"_What? No, of course I like her," she said. Quin frowned, thinking through the brief visit his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin had provided him with. He enjoyed spending time with his cousin Chyme, who was twelve, and his Uncle Zeke was funny, but Quin noticed the tension between Gaz and his own parents._

"_Really?" Quin asked, taking a step into the bedroom. Zita turned to look at him for a long moment._

"_Of course," she said, "what do you mean?" _

"_I don't think Dad likes her," Quin continued, coming to sit on his parent's bed. Zita sighed, running a hand through her lilac hair._

"_Sometimes Gaz and Dib just don't get along; just like you and Maize don't often get along. It doesn't mean that he doesn't like her, does it? You still like Maize," Quin nodded, accepting his Mother's words, even though he couldn't help but think that somehow it was different between Dib and Gaz then it was between him and Maize._

_But after all, he was only a child. Perhaps he read the signs wrong?_

Looking back now, though, Quin felt that his nine-year-old self had read the signs quite clearly.

Somehow, at some point, Zim and Gaz had actually gotten along. Whatever friendship they had had, obviously was strong enough to overcome that fact that Zim had caused the destruction of Gaz's entire city; the city she was raised in.

Or Gaz was just exceptionally selfish. She must have known what Zim had done. Gaz was smart, she would have found out.

Chyme was blinded, though, with love for her Mother. Sometimes you just don't want to see the bad in people.

They walked for quite some time before Quin realized he was very hungry. When had he last eaten? In fact, how long had he been out for? Was it just one night, or had it been longer?

"I wonder where Skoodge is." Chyme wondered, examining a faded metal street sign. The plants and trees had receded here. Glass still littered the ground, and every now and then Quin would flinch as he saw the top of a skull or a pile of bones.

He was just glad that the flesh had decomposed by this point. He didn't think he could stand seeing so many dead bodies. A large metal frame was lying upon the ground, crushing the remains of a smaller building. The frame stretched as far as Quin could see. He moved closer, glass crunching underfoot. He was glad he was wearing good shoes, not sandals like Chyme.

"Do you reckon this is the remains of a skyscraper? Like the ones from the centre of the city?"

"Maybe," said Chyme, "that would have been awesome to see fall, huh?"

Images of a spectacularly tall building crashing down on screaming people filled Quin's mind. Despite his disgust at people being crushed under a skyscraper, he grinned.

"Yeah," he admitted, "it would."

They followed the Skyscraper for some time, Quin not daring to go too close in case he saw skeletons lying underneath it. They kept their own pace, and it seemed like a leisurely stroll through the strangest park in the world. Quin tried to pay attention to the way they were going, because he really wanted to investigate the lifeless circle he had seen from the pine tree, even if it was some distance away.

What was really fascinating was that it marked the middle of the destruction. According to the laws of physics, as far as Quin knew them, the destruction had started there. For some reason, it seemed like that was the place where he could find answers as well.

But what was there to discover?

If he wanted to know anything, it would be why Zim had caused mass destruction at any rate. Did he still desire it, but lead Dib to believe that he was no longer after world domination? It seemed like a long shot, but that was the only idea that Quin had, and he desperately clung to the idea that he would be able to find out in the centre.

Quin had never wished so much that he had a car; or even a bike of some sort. He just wanted something that would get him to his destination quicker. Stateston was large, since it had once been a thriving city, and there were a lot of places where they had to turn back because the way was blocked with rubble and glass. Mostly, though, they could walk freely.

Time passed slowly. Footsteps passed quickly.

Quin didn't think he'd ever lived through such a long day in his life.

**Time is relative**, after all.

* * *

Sometimes, when you literally have nothing, you complain.

Several _I'm hungry_'s and _this is stupid; we aren't even getting any wher_e's floated around. Really, though, there was nothing to do about it. Skoodge had disappeared and any food that could be salvaged from the destroyed town had long since rotted with the age of fourteen years.

"You know what never goes off?" asked Chyme, rubbing her stomach, her eyes on the setting sun.

"What?" sighed Quin, sick of Chyme's constant complaints.

"Honey, honey never goes bad."

"There's no honey here, Chyme. Look at the place. There aren't even a few mushrooms or something."

There wasn't. The ground was free of anything that remotely resembled life. A few brown shoots escaped the brown dirt, withered and barely clinging to survival. Quin spent a good deal of time pondering this, being there nothing else to do but watch the broken buildings pass by.

"Chyme," he said suddenly, squinting as the glare of the sun filled his eyes, "how come there are no trees growing back here? We saw some earlier. Doesn't fire help plants grow back, not stunt them?"

Chyme frowned and kicked at the crusty earth.

"It does," she said, "but it wasn't just fires that destroyed Stateston. It was a whole combination of things."

"How would riots and earthquakes-" Quin was interrupted by Chyme.

"No, not just that. Don't you reckon you'd need more than that to topple a city? Explosions, bombs, nuclear explosions... they don't happen out of the blue, do they? You can't tell people of the world that the majority of the city was destroyed because of some sort of nuclear bomb."

"Nuclear explosions?"

"Just a guess," said Chyme, "but it's the only lead we've got." She sounded quite business like. Quin smirked.

"We aren't detectives, Chyme."

"We could be! It'd all be like a grand adventure, eh?"

"It's not grand. It's an awful adventure."

They kept bickering as such, and didn't even realise they had company until someone cleared their throat.

"Where have you two been?" Skoodge demanded, looking slightly comical with his hands on his hips. He was smaller than both Chyme and Quin, even if only by a tiny amount.

"_Where have you been_?" demanded Chyme, mimicking Skoodge's stance, "you were the one who disappeared, you know!"

"How did you find us?" Quin asked, looking around at the almost flattened houses. They were surrounded by nothing but rubble.

"I heard you," said Skoodge, looking disapproving, "do you know how loud you two are? I could hear you from a mile away!"

"It's because this place is virtually silent," protested Chyme, refusing to be talked down to by someone several inches shorter than her, "not because we're loud. It's practically a ghost town."

"Then it matters all the more," said Skoodge, "you don't know who may be around."

Obviously Skoodge was afraid of Swollen Eyeball members still at large. Quin begged to differ, however. Chyme and Quin had been talking loudly all day, making no attempt to cover their tracks or be particularly careful. If the Swollen Eyeballs hadn't found them by now, it was because none of them had survived the destruction of their base; which meant that they never would find them.

"That explosion seemed to take care of them for us," as always, Chyme couldn't keep her thoughts to herself. It puzzled Quin that his cousin always did things like that. Couldn't she just let it go? What was the point in making a big deal over matters of little importance?

"They could have been outside the range," Skoodge said, "They weren't normal, everyday explosives. They were specially crafted Irken explosives. They only affect a certain range; generally the shape of a circle. After that it just stops. You could have been a metre from the edge of the explosion and you would be perfectly fine. There's a chance that someone may have been just outside the circle."

Chyme started stating her opinions about the unfortunate Irkens who invented the explosives. Quin, however, was thinking back to the pine tree, and what he had seen. The perfect lifeless circle. So, some sort of bizarre nuclear Irken explosion did cause that.

"Look, follow me," instructed Skoodge, starting to walk away, down what must once have been an alleyway. "I was looking for you about an hour ago, and I came across Zim's old base. I don't know if you've noticed, but this area is damaged on a much larger scale-"

"Yeah, Quin and I were just saying-"

"-and it all starts from Zim's base. That's the centre of the damage. I was trying to get in, but then when I finally managed to get the lift operating, I heard you guys over here."

"How could you get in? Wasn't it destroyed?" Quin asked quickly, climbing over what remained of a steel roof, which was leaning against what looked like a vending machine.

"The top levels were," Skoodge explained, "but the base continues on underground. I don't know what's down there... but I need to know what happened that day."

"Zim blew it up, end of story," Chyme muttered, rubbing her arms as it started to grow both colder and darker.

"I don't know," said Skoodge, "Zim was always a bit secretive when I stayed with him. Seemed to think I was going to ruin his mission, yet he did that all by himself. Gir didn't help either, on second thoughts. Well, back to the story, he was a frequent liar, but eventually I knew him well enough to tell truths apart from lies. He gloated about destroying Stateston, yet I think there was more to it than that."

Chyme and Quin followed the little alien in silence, mulling this over in their minds. Was Skoodge saying that Zim didn't really destroy Stateston? Was there really more to it than that? Or did Skoodge not want to believe in the worst of his friend?

Did Skoodge even care about all those people in Stateston that died, though, when he didn't care about the numerous humans in that Swollen Eyeballs base?

No.

No, he didn't. He was an Alien, what did Quin expect? He didn't understand; he didn't have emotions. How could he possibly comprehend loss or grief? Skoodge would never know how it felt to hear of the death of a loved one. He would never know how the whole world collapses around you, how your stomach twists and churns.

He would never know denial, the cruellest defence mechanism of all. What did he have to deny?

He was an **Alien**. And that's all he'd ever be.

Quin's walk slowed. He considered stopping and yelling. But then, in the long run, what good would that do? Perhaps it would be better to follow Skoodge and Chyme to Zim's base, to watch the Alien realise that he couldn't save his friend; because Zim really was a monster.

A sense of satisfaction overcame Quin as he watched Skoodge's hopeful face when they came back into view of what was apparently Zim's base. Scraps of metal adorned the ground, but it was cleared away, and food scraps were evident, clearly not fourteen years old.

"People have been here recently," added Skoodge, "I'm assuming it was the Eyeballs, trying to cash in information on Zim. They wouldn't be able to get into the backup system though, just as Dib and his team couldn't all those years ago."

"You know how to get in to the system?" Chyme said hopefully, watching as Skoodge approached a blackened toilet bowl, mouldy and cracked. Quin's eyes widened as the alien plunged a foot into the bowl and then the other. He looked at them.

"Coming?"

Chyme walked over hesitantly, followed by Quin. They looked closer at the toilet bowl. Skoodge's feet were resting on a platform... just like the one from Dib's lab! It was a tight squeeze, but all three of them managed to fit onto the platform, and as it lowered ridiculously slowly, Quin felt Chyme laugh into his shoulder.

"Why is this so slow?" Quin demanded.

"Hey, it's the best I could do. It was this or a six storey drop."

Silence hung in the air like smoke. A strange feeling of excitement and anticipation filled Quin's stomach. Despite the fact that he knew Zim was guilty, he couldn't help but feel that this was the place that he would be getting his answers from.

The platform came to a grinding halt and Skoodge shuffled out, followed by Chyme.

The room they were standing in must have been the remains of a laboratory, even if it hardly resembled one.

There were screens, several, all of which (apart from one) were shattered or cracked. Wires hung down from the unstable rafters, blackened and burnt circuit boards were scattered across the room. Light filtered down through the elevator shaft, and Skoodge pulled a torch from his Pak, lighting the lab enough to see.

"The Swollen Eyeballs haven't been down here," said Skoodge, taking in the thick layer of dust on the floor. He headed over to the control panel and wiped the dust from the buttons, then instantly snapped into action; fixing, reconnecting circuits, entering codes, like he had been trained his whole life for this moment. Did Irkens have this sort of thing encoded on their brains? Did they even have brains?

Chyme was watching in interest. Quin wondered what her stand on this was. She couldn't honestly think Zim was innocent, right? Chyme caught her cousin's eye, but before she had time to say anything, a dull groan echoed through the laboratory. It was strangled, fuzzy and hoarse, but it was clearly the voice of Zim's computer.

"What's Zim's computer doing here?" Chyme asked. "The computer chip is in my bag, at Quin's house."

"I am merely the backup system," crackled the computer voice.

"Computer, can you tell us who the last person in here was, beside ourselves?" There was a loud whirring sound as the computer retraced through its files. Quin was impressed that Skoodge had managed to get it running, but it clearly wasn't in a good condition. Quin had the feeling that it would crash at any moment.

"The last intelligent being inside the laboratory was human Gaz Membrane," the computer chirped. Chyme let out a breath.

"So she knows that Zim is innocent," said Chyme.

"He's not innocent," snarled Quin. Chyme looked at him.

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do!"

"Computer!" Skoodge commanded, his voice rising above both Chyme and Quin, "did Gaz Membrane operate you?"

"Yes," said the computer, "before shutting me down again, which was quite annoying."

"Right," said Skoodge, frowning, "what files did she view?"

"Gaz Membrane deleted her history, but I do believe she was watching a video communication between the Almighty Tallest and Ex-Invader Zim."

"Ex-Invader, eh?" said Skoodge, his antennae flattening in surprise.

"Correct."

Chyme looked a little surprised, and her eyes met with Quin's. _What? _She mouthed at him. Quin shrugged, but inside he was filled to the brim with curiosity. Wasn't Zim an Invader anymore? Was this because he had been missing for thirteen years? How come his "Almighty Tallest" hadn't sent anyone to come and collect him?

"Show us the video, please," said Skoodge confidently, staring at the only remaining screen. Chyme and Quin moved closer. Perhaps the computer had forgotten that Gaz had apparently deleted her history; perhaps she had, but he had dug it up again. Regardless, soon a flickering image had appeared on the screen. It was split into two. The first half was a much healthier looking Zim, sitting in a chair. He was grinning. The base behind him was in good condition, even if Quin could clearly see Gir, the robot, smearing the back wall with something that looked like mustard.

On the other side of the screen were two beings that partly resembled Skoodge and Zim. They were taller, but they had the same eyes, antennae and green skin. These were clearly the almighty tallest that kept being mentioned. They looked almost identical; except for the colour of their eyes and clothes... were they even clothes? They looked like metal rather than material. One was purple and one was red. The background behind them displayed something that looked like Zim's base; it was metal-walled, lined with control panels. The only difference was, that instead of Gir covering both the back wall and himself with mustard, several Irkens scurried about, pressing buttons and muttering in monotones

"My tallest?" Zim on the screen said, "You called me?"

"Zim," sighed the Red tallest, shooting a look at the purple one, who had chosen that moment to start slurping on a drink. The purple tallest immediately stopped. "Zim, we've come to the decision we should have made years ago. We kept putting it off, though, because you are very entertaining."

Zim just stared, his big red eyes open to their full capacity.

"My Tallest?" he enquired, and Quin couldn't believe the innocence sugar coating his usually grating tones.

"Zim, you're mission isn't going anywhere," said the Purple Tallest, "and to be honest, you're getting boring."

"Boring? But Invaders aren't meant to be interesting, my Tallest, they're meant to invade!" Zim held a gloved hand aloft, grinning large.

"You're **not** an invader, Zim," said Red, looking slightly bored. Zim didn't even falter.

"Of course I am," he said indignantly.

"You're not an invader," said Purple, waving the drink around, "you're just a nuisance."

"You destroyed Operation Impending Doom one! How could we let you become an invader? We lied and sent you to Earth to get rid of you," Red's voice rose.

"Surely this is some sort of joke," said Zim quietly, and the silence seemed to stretch on. Gir had stopped, and was now watching with a slight frown on his face, mustard dripping from his hands.

"It isn't a joke," said Red, frowning deeply, "Look Zim, every single disaster from the past several years have all traced back to you; from Earth. Even at the edge of the universe, you're still causing trouble."

"But I'm an invader," said Zim, his face drooping, "it's all I know. You can't take it all away from me now! Please, my Tallest, I beg you! Don't send me back to exile!"

"We're not!" said Purple, now eating chicken greedily, "We're exploding your planet instead. What use are you alive?"

"We sent you to Earth to keep you from causing any further harm," said Red, pressing his claw like fingertips together, staring at Zim intently. Purple scoffed as he tore chicken from the bone.

"Yeah, a _fool proof plan_," he said mockingly, glaring at Red. Red ignored him. Zim's face seemed frozen in horror, before slowly fading to an indifferent expression.

"You are going to blow up Earth?" he asked, his fingers still clenched against the control panel.

"I'm sorry Zim, but it's for the good of the Irken race. Surely, you, of all people would appreciate this. Think of it as a Martyr-Dom kind of thing. You'll be remembered forever for this."

"Of course," said Zim, in an almost monotone, "but how are you planning to do it?"

"There's a bomb planted in your base," Purple blurted out, grinning manically, "We control it."

"Don't tell him that," hissed Red, throwing a piece of chicken at his fellow Tallest, "what if he escapes? Or stops it?"

"Of course not," said Zim, "it's for the good of the Irken race." Quin wondered if Zim was on Auto-Pilot now. He was staring out of the screen blankly. Chyme was staring sadly at the screen.

"Yes," said Red happily, although Purple was chewing on the chicken with a frown. "So, good bye, Zim. Don't even try to escape from this. You ruined Impending Doom one, and have slowed number two down. This is your Impending Doom. You have about ten minutes to live."

"Goodbye!" called Purple cheerfully, and then the Tallest's side of the screen turned black. Gir approached Zim slowly, his face blank.

"That was bad, wasn't it?" he asked, in a seemingly intelligent voice. Zim nodded dully.

"We're doomed, Gir; doomed, at last."

"And so is Earth," said Gir, his cyan eyes filling with tears, "and all the little piggies and Dib's."

"Gaz is doomed too," said Zim, frowning. Gir burst into noisy wails, his hands covering his huge eyes. Zim just sat there, his frown growing bigger and bigger.

"But this doesn't make sense," stressed Chyme, "the Earth didn't explode. Just Stateston; and not even all of it."

"Gaz and Dib are not here in this **filthy** city," said Zim slowly, ignoring Gir's cries.

"And all ma' piggies will be exploded!" the robot wailed, clinging to a stuffed pig (was it the same one that Maize had found in Gir's head?).

"Gir," said Zim, attracting the robot's attention. "A time may come when we give up, and let the universe walk all over us! But I will not let it be today, you hear me. For I am **ZIMMM!**" Zim jumped onto his chair, his eyes wide.

"You tolded the Tallest that you'd explode," pointed out Gir, clutching the pig to him, "for the good of the Irken race."

Zim's face contorted. "Screw the Irken race, Gir," he said, "what have they ever done for us?"

"They didn't even send me those taquito's I wanted," Gir pouted.

"See? All they've ever done is hold us back! A time may come when all of your piggies do indeed explode. But today is our time, Gir, and do you know what we will do?"

Gir stared at Zim for a long moment.

"Train a cow to do a backflip?" said Gir hopefully.

"No, Gir," said Zim in a low voice, not even batting an eyelid at Gir's pointless interruption, "no. Today, Gir, we save Earth and all the filthy dirt worms that live upon it! Or I am not **INVADER ZZIIMMM!**"

* * *

**Well, this took a lot longer to get up than I originally thought. I'm so sorry, but I just got caught up with Exams and stuff like that, and couldn't find time to write anything.**

**Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, it keeps me writing this. **

**Tell me what you think about the latest developments, and I'll try and be quicker for the next update. **

**Thanks,**

**Mimi :D**


	8. Chapter 8

Quin's brain was on autopilot as he watched the events on screen unfold. Skoodge was wide eyed, and Chyme was gaping. Zim was saving the Earth?

If there were any reaction Quin had expected, it was not this. Zim, Invader and destroyer of Earth... wanted to save it? Didn't that go against everything he had ever wanted? Or was it simply to save himself? If not, why not just say it? Who was there to fool?

The Zim on screen barked orders out to Gir, whose eyes flashed red for a second before returning to their usual cyan. Instead of helping Zim, he seemed to be hindering. Zim, who seemed like the most impatient being Quin had ever met, was not fazed by Gir's loud shrieks as the robot bounced the stuffed pig off his head.

On the contrary, his eyes were glazed over as though he didn't even know Gir was there.

"Computer," Zim called.

"What?" came the groan of the computer from the recording.

"Locate the bomb hidden in the base," Zim ordered, a maniacal grin appearing on his face.

"You know I can't do that Zim," said the Computer in a sigh.

"Why not? You know everything, computer," Zim said, "Surely you don't want to explode?"

"It's not that... locating the bomb would override all of my primary settings."

"Come on, Computer," coaxed Zim. The computer sighed again.

"Fine, Zim... but this is only to get back at the Tallest for pairing me with you. I still can't believe that!"

"Excellent," snickered Zim, rubbing his gloved hands together. Quin almost laughed. Did every insult thrown at Zim just bounce off him? He was really very oblivious... or ignorant.

"If I had a mongoose for every time we was doomed," Gir squealed, hanging down from the rafters by several lengths of wire, "I'd have fourteen nickels!" Zim was tapping his fingers on the control panel impatiently while the computer analysed the base.

So, Skoodge was right? Zim saved the Earth? He was good after all, so... was Quin wrong about him? But the facts still didn't add up.

"The bomb is located in my main hard drive," said the computer. Was it just Quin, or did the computer sound a little afraid?

"Well, can you disable it?" asked Zim impatiently.

"The bomb is very complex; if I were to disable it, it would probably explode. The best you could do is tamper with it a bit."

Zim frowned, his fingers instantly stopping their tapping. Gir's giggles still continued, but Quin's attention was completely on Zim's creased brow. It was almost impossible to tell what Zim was thinking.

"How long until it goes off?" he asked.

"Eight minutes and thirty two seconds," said the Computer. Zim nodded. He sat still for another moment and then stood up.

"Keep me informed of the time, Computer. I am going to have a look at this bomb." Zim walked off screen. Gir stopped laughing and fell from the rafters to a heap on the ground. He bounced up onto his feet and tilted his head to the side, looking at what must have been Zim off screen.

"Where are ya goin' Mastah?" Gir asked.

"To the control brain of the Computer, Gir," said Zim, "now stay here."

"Yes, sir," said Gir in a lower voice, his eyes flashing red again. There was the sound of the elevator platform leaving. Gir stood still for a long moment and then collapsed into giggles on the floor. "We're DOOMED!"

The half of the screen that the Tallest had disappeared from now showed Zim walking along a corridor. It appeared to be some sort of security camera, as it was only showing Zim from a distance. He was moving so quickly that the scene kept changing. He eventually ended up in a large circular room. Electric cords lined the walls and in the centre sat a big control centre, and a flashing brain type thing. It didn't appear to be human; Quin was sure he could see wires protruding from it. It only made sense for it to be the control brain Zim had mentioned. Was the bomb in that room?

"Computer?" Zim called out, his voice loud enough for the security camera to pick up.

"Yes?"

"Time, please."

"Seven minutes and fourteen seconds," the computer said. Zim didn't look too concerned, which was surprising. Did he often deal with such dangerous situations? Sure, he was frowning, and shaking a little, but Quin would have expected him to have had a nervous breakdown. Zim just seemed like that sort of personality. But obviously he could deal well enough in a stressful situation.

He headed over to where the control brain was and smashed the glass that surrounded it. He gently probed the brain, and Quin decided that it was, in fact, made of closely knitted circuits and wires rather than the usual clump of neurons that was traditionally considered a brain.

"I can't find it," Zim muttered, although rather loudly. His mutterings continued, but they seemed to fade into the background. Gir's random giggles were only occasional yet they seemed to trail on for ages. On his side of the screen he appeared to be staring intently back at them, but he must have been watching something on the screen in front of him. Chyme's suddenly shallow breathing was making Quin grit his teeth.

"Be quiet, won't you?" he hissed, "I'm trying to listen."

Chyme didn't seem to care. Her breathing became harsher.

Wouldn't she just shut up? It was really irritating. Quin clenched his hands and bit down on his lip as Chyme's breathing became louder and louder. She coughed a few times, looking immensely confused as she clutched at her throat.

"Shut up," moaned Quin. Zim's frantic mutterings had no chance of being heard over Chyme's annoying coughs. Yet she continued. "Shut up," Quin repeated, a little louder this time. Skoodge's antennae twitched and he turned to look at Quin and Chyme, frowning intensely.

"What are you looking at?" Quin growled at the alien, wanting him to go away. He was still angry at Skoodge, no matter whether Zim was good or bad. And Chyme was still coughing? What was she doing? Surely she could control herself long enough to see what was going on, on the screen? It was so annoying. In fact, Chyme had been annoying him a lot lately. Treating him like a child, defending her mother and Zim alike, and now she was just being a plain nuisance. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing as he approached her, but as he raised his fist he knew that if this was the only way to get her to stop making noise, so be it.

It's been said that you see red when you're too angry to think straight. For Quin, it wasn't red. As he walked towards his cousin, who was crying and choking on the floor, a voice warning him that he wasn't himself, it seemed that the edges of his vision were blurring to white. There was a flash of green and pink before him and his sight went dark. No red, though.

* * *

Skoodge was technically still an Invader, even after being shunned by his leaders and people so many times. He had never been demoted like Zim had. He was still an Invader; and one of the best, at that.

The outcome of an Invasion depended on, not the heights of the initial invader as most Irkens were lead to believe, but the strategies that the Invader laid on the table. Skoodge was one of the best strategic planners that the Irken Armada had. Unfortunately, he was also one of the shortest.

An older Irken had once told Skoodge, long ago when he was only a young (and incredibly small) smeet; that good things come in small packages. To this day, Skoodge couldn't remember who this Irken was or even if he was still alive, but the words stuck by him, and kept him looking forward. He knew he was intelligent, and he had the thought that even the tallest knew he was, even if they constantly criticised him. Perhaps that was why they criticised him. He once believed that the Tallest were wonderful. That was before he'd been shunned by them.

If the Tallest were the smartest and most supreme that the Irken race had to offer, then how could the Irken race be as high and mighty as all the war slogans proclaimed? The thought had bubbled away in his mind throughout all the time he spent with Zim on Earth, in self-appointed exile. Though he may have been slow (not unlike Zim, actually) he was not stupid. He had figured it out eventually. That had been about the time he'd left Earth and stumbled across the infamous Resisty.

Skoodge was not quite sure who had named the resistance group, but he often thought that **The Resistance** would have been a much better name than Resisty. At first the Resisty had held him hostage, but after realising that he wanted to negotiate, they began to work together. Skoodge had irresistible knowledge about the Irken Empire, after all. How could they refuse?

Unlike Zim, who Skoodge often thought was nothing but a narcissistic and oblivious nature with a loud voice; Skoodge had an extensive knowledge of Irken weaponry. Some of it was quite brutal, and often Skoodge had been quite indifferent of it. It was fascinating, certainly, but the rest of the Resisty didn't seem to be on the same level as him. They'd pull horrified faces as Skoodge described the sort of damage a small bomb could achieve, the way the fire would destroy anyone within its boundaries and then stop. They didn't seem to appreciate the subtle beauty that was these bombs, the way Irkens could bend them to their will. The only thing was, once the bomb exploded, it didn't stop there.

Skoodge hadn't told Quin and Chyme what happened once the bomb had gone off; he'd learnt from the Resisty that it only inspires panic. He'd kept his mouth shut and eventually, as he continued without feeling any of the bombs effects, he'd assumed that since the air was so untainted here, it wouldn't work.

And eventually he'd forgotten altogether.

He had been so focused on the screen, on seeing what Zim had really done, that he'd pushed aside a very important fact.

Irken weapons have more than one attack point. That was the genius of them. They looked simple and straight forward, but really they were sneaky; because that's what the Irken race was. It was a sneaky thing; a disease. On the surface they were no more than a race built on prejudices and explosions. But there were masterminds behind it all. And Skoodge knew it wasn't the Tallest. The Tallest were no more than figure heads, in charge because their height was marginally more than their intelligence. It was the control brains that did the thinking. Years of spy work for the Resisty had taught him that. The control brains were the cancer, infecting the Irken Empire from the inside.

It wasn't Irkens that Skoodge despised; it was their intelligence, their cowardice. For all their bravery, Irkens were fearful. Scared to stand up to their Tallest, to the Control brains. It was this about Zim that Skoodge admired. He wasn't fearful, even if he was sadistic and selfish. He had followed the Tallest like a loyal puppy, but never had he cowered away when he was in danger of their wrath.

Although, thinking back to the assigning of Invaders for Impending Doom two, Skoodge wondered if Zim sensed the danger at all. Perhaps he just was very, very stupid.

Skoodge had barely gotten a chance to talk to him again after over fourteen years of separation, before he was sent off again to find Quin and Chyme.

He had seen the haunted look in Zim's eyes, though.

It all made sense really, he had thought as he watched the Tallest doom Zim for the final time, not even Zim could ignore what the Tallest had said. Not when he had fourteen years to dwell on it, all alone in the dark.

He had been listening intently to Zim's mutterings as he searched for the bomb in the control brain of the computer. He'd heard the hiss of success as Zim pulled away a panel underneath the computer's brain and found an empty cavity with a small dome shaped object hidden inside. After that, though, Skoodge found his eyes drawn towards Chyme, who was bent over, coughing and hacking away.

Was she sick? Her eyes filled with tears and she dropped to the floor, coughing her lungs out. Would she stop by herself? Was this considered normal for a human? Even after spending years on Earth, Skoodge wasn't familiar with human anatomy. It was the culture that had interested him more. Zim had been the one obsessed with figuring out human illnesses and organ structure. Was she sick? Was she dying?

Another thought suddenly occurred to him as he saw Quin viciously growl at Chyme to _shut up._

This could be an effect of the bomb.

Quin and Chyme didn't usually interact like this, did they? Although Skoodge had met Chyme, and knew her well enough, he knew nothing of Quin's temperament.

But as he saw Quin advance towards Chyme, glaring and raising a hand, Skoodge decided that this wasn't normal. He had grabbed the first object he could see and slammed it down on Quin's head.

There was a sickening crunch.

Skoodge had picked up a wrench.

Quin collapsed to the ground. Chyme coughed harder. It was a wonder she was still conscious, really... in fact... now that he thought about it... there was nothing Skoodge wanted more than to sleep... right here... he was very tired... his vision was going a little fuzzy.

**NO.**

"Computer!" Skoodge barked, "Turn the fans on. Filter out the gas!"

"Yes," droned the computer overhead and there was a large humming noise and Skoodge collapsed to his knees besides Chyme. He slowly regained his vision and looked up to see Chyme coughing less, but her face was red and she looked frightened.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, meeting her eyes. She gulped and nodded, coughing once more.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice nothing but a choked murmur. Skoodge noticed the laughing of Gir in the background. The recording was still playing, was it?

"Irken bombs don't just explode. It also releases a gas, which spreads within a large radius. It's the gas that can be very harmful."

"It caused me to cough," said Chyme, and she glanced at her cousin's crumpled body, "and Quin to become angry?"

"The gas works differently on different sort of people. It can cause you to have difficulty breathing and eventually choke, to become lightheaded, angry and violent, suicidal and sometimes it can just make you go mad. It works more effectively on other aliens... I mean, it works better on things that are not Irken, like humans... but it can still affect Irkens."

"What's the point, though," Chyme pulled herself in a sitting position, eyes glancing between Skoodge, the screen and Quin. "I mean, why have the gas if it's going to explode?"

"It's for anything that might be just outside the explosion, to deter it from escaping. When Stateston fell there were fires, riots and unexplained chaos?" he didn't even wait for Chyme's nod of confirmation, "well, that was the gas. And to answer the question I know you're about to ask, it only started affecting us now because we're in an enclosed environment. Stateston, back when it was whole, was polluted. The gas is undetectable, light and not as heavy as smoke and fumes; the pollution in the air keeps it trapped. Now, after fourteen years, the pollution is long gone, and the gas spreads further. There was not enough to affect us outside. Inside, though," Skoodge trailed off and looked purposefully away from Chyme and towards the screen.

Zim was swearing colourfully in rapid Irken, the dome-shaped bomb now in his hands, sparking as he fiddled with the wires.

"Time," he screeched at the computer.

"Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds," came the voice of the computer. Zim scowled and bent over the bomb once more. Gir, on the other side of the screen, was making no movement. The television reflected in his cyan eyes and Skoodge thought it might be **the angry Monkey show**. Gir had always been a little over-obsessed with that show.

Chyme stood behind him and made her way over to her cousin. Skoodge let the wrench that he was still gripping fall to the ground. He was not as physically strong as humans, but the wrench was heavy and he had been acting on instinct. He hadn't seriously hurt Quin, had he? How strong were human skulls? Would any skull, even one as big as Quin's, be unaffected by a blow that harsh? Or was Skoodge just overreacting?

"He's breathing," whispered Chyme, and Skoodge finally turned to see Chyme with her fingers hovering over Quin's nose, "I can feel his breath. But that looks like a nasty bruise..."

"I had to," said Skoodge, "he was becoming violent." Chyme sent him a look as to say, _and what damage could an eleven year old like Quin really do?_

_I don't know_, thought Skoodge, turning away, still feeling guilty. He watched Zim work for another few moments before Zim dropped the wire cutters and let out a cry.

"Victory for Zim!"

"Four and a half minutes until the bomb explodes, Zim," said the computer in the background, "you haven't dismantled it, you know. It's still working."

"But I've fixed it," grinned Zim, looking proud of himself.

"What do you-"

"No time to explain, Computer," said Zim, "take me to the main ventilation shaft. Oh, and tell Gir to get to the top level."

Skoodge watched as Zim was transported to the ventilation shaft, which was long, dark and seemed never-ending. Skoodge had never gone near it before, and now that he looked at it, it didn't seem that friendly. Zim leaned over the edge of the corridor connecting to it and threw the bomb into its depths.

"Three minutes and thirty-six seconds Zim," said the Computer sternly.

Meanwhile, on Gir's screen, the computer had apparently turned off the **angry Monkey show** and ordered Gir to get up to the house. Gir had obeyed, if noisily and fairly slowly, and the security tapes changed to one view of the house's kitchen. The image filled the screen.

"Gir," proclaimed Zim as Gir appeared out of the toilet bowl, "I, the amazing Zim, have found a solution to our problem. We-"

"I think you parked the Voot cruiser in the wrong spot," interrupted Gir, pointing to the Voot cruiser that was indeed parked through half of the kitchen wall. Zim had obviously placed it there while Gir was making his way up to the kitchen.

"I know, Gir," said Zim impatiently, "as I was saying before you pointlessly interrupted me-"

"One minute," interrupted the computer, "till our impending doom."

"Yes, thank-you Computer," yelled Zim sarcastically, "but we do indeed have a plan. The plan is... Gir, pay attention!"

Gir had been playing with the stuffed piggy again, acting like a three year old would with a toy spaceship. He quickly dropped it and his eyes flashed red.

"Yes, Sir," he said in a lower voice, his hand moving into a fast salute.

"Thank-you," said Zim, settling once again into his oddly calm nature for the current situation. "The Voot cruiser is parked here for a reason Gir; you see, I minimised the extent of damage that the bomb will cause. It is highly unlikely to blow up much more than a country or two... And Gaz is currently in England, quite a while away as you know... I'm not sure where Dib is, but we still have enough time-"

"Thirty seconds," said the Computer. Zim glared up at what must have been the ceiling, but it was hard to tell from the angle of the security camera.

"Okay," he said, "Gir get in the Voot cruiser, won't you?"

"Okay," said Gir, the piggy now lying forgotten on the floor. He jumped inside the Voot cruiser and pulled out a brain freezie from a compartment in his torso and began to slurp at it noisily.

"I think I see the flaw in this _marvellous _plan, Zim," said the Computer sarcastically, "the Tallest must have disabled your Voot cruiser, since it clearly isn't functioning properly. You wouldn't be able to get much higher than thirty feet," (Gir was pressing buttons at random, giggling to himself). "You know, to **stop** you from escaping."

"I know," said Zim, pulling out what appeared to be some sort of computer chip and plugging it into a spot in the wall, "but I've made some improvements to my cruiser in recent years. It's almost indestructible, you see, and it's now parked right over the main air vent-"

"Ten seconds, Zim," said the Computer in a panicked voice. Zim gave a yelp and quickly pressed a few buttons on the control panel which had appeared on the wall next to the computer chip. The computer's voice faded and the video recordings suddenly appeared jumpy and unclear.

Even though the Computer's memory was now evidently in the chip Zim was holding, and the countdown silent, Skoodge's mind filled in the blanks.

**Seven, six...**

Zim pulled the chip from the wall and stumbled over to the Voot cruiser.

**Five...**

"Gir!" Zim screeched, because Gir had been attempting to climb out of the Voot and reach the toy piggy that was lying on the floor.

**Four...**

Zim was pulling Gir back inside the cruiser, but Gir's eyes were filling with tears as he screamed for his toy.

**Three...**

One of the little SIR unit's arms extended, managing to grab the pig and pull it back into the Voot cruiser.

**Two...**

Zim pulled Gir back inside the Voot cruiser and the window sealed over them.

**One.**

The screen went static.

"What, what happened?" Chyme asked, standing up and staring at the screen.

"That was the last moment that any video data was recorded and sent to the back-up system. The security cameras are thought to be broken, but I am unsure; I can't detect that far up." The computer droned overhead. Skoodge figured as much. The blast of the explosion had destroyed almost all of the upper levels; the security cameras, if even intact, would not be able to send the information to the internal memory.

Chyme gaped for a moment before flinging her arms out again as she spoke.

"But... What happened? Are they okay? Wouldn't they just explode?"

It was times like these that Skoodge really doubted the intelligence of the human race. **Are they Okay?** She had seen Zim and Gir not all of a day ago. He raised an eyebrow at Chyme, who took a moment to realise what she had said, and blushed.

"What- Oh, Skoodge, you know what I mean! How did they get out of that unscathed?"

Skoodge, of course, didn't know. But, he was smart, and had known Zim long enough to figure out many of his motives and know his train of thought.

So, doing the thing any logical Irken would, he started to make assumptions.

* * *

**Well, again, I haven't updated as soon as I had hoped. I've had a little writers block and other stuff coming up. I'm not too happy with the way this chapter turned out, but it's probably because it lacks Zim (yeah, I**** know he is sort of in it, but it isn't the same). He always makes chapters fun to write.**

**Anyways, I'll try and get the next chapter up sooner. Thank you to anyone who's reviewed or favourited, it means a lot.**

**Mimi XD**


	9. Chapter 9

The room was eerily silent but for the clacking of Zim's fingers on the dining table and the heavy thud of Dib's feet as he paced the length of the room. The tension was evident, hanging in the air like thick, choking fumes; smoke, which stung the eyes of all but Zim, of course. Smoke didn't affect magnificent Irken eyes.

Of course, that wasn't true, smoke **did **affect Irken eyes, but since it was merely a _metaphor _(a strange human language thing) that didn't matter.

To the three humans that were currently awake in the room, it was what could be described as **awkward**. Gaz was scowling heavily at Dib, who was looking a little deranged. His hair was sticking up more than usual from the amount of times that he'd run his fingers through it. Zita was watching him with a worried expression. Maize was curled up next to Gir, whom was currently broken. Soon after he'd jumped onto the chandelier and it had come crashing down, a wire had short circuited and he'd become lifeless once more. Glass still littered the wooden table, and Mini-Moose circled the small hole in the roof that had once held the lighting system in place. Skoodge's SIR unit was standing motionless in the corner, red eyes following the small, floating moose curiously.

Mini-Moose, Skoodge and his SIR unit had arrived shortly after Dib received the ransom call from the Swollen Eyeballs, in Skoodge's Voot Cruiser. The reunion had been brief, for the humans had been insistent on recovering Dib's strange clone thing and the Gaz-Spawn. Then Skoodge had been driven off to some sort of location point by Zita, and then they were to wait for further instructions. The whole thing had seemed rather stupid to Zim, but then again, he didn't really care much about what was going on. It all seemed like a blur to him. And now he was here, at the table, with nothing to do.

Of all the people he could have chosen to study at this point in time, he had chosen the most boring. Zita... whatever her last name was. She was so very different from the last time he'd seen her, which was probably back sometime about the seventh grade. Back then she had been a giggling fan girl, popular and ignorant to Dib's constant warnings. Now she was clearly someone Dib trusted, (which, Zim supposed, wasn't hard to achieve. The boy trusted humans far too easily, despite the fact that they were generally stupid). She looked more concerned over Dib's manic state than the fact her son (well, a clone of Dib... which sort of made Quin a younger version of her husband... boy, that family unit had some issues) had been kidnapped.

Zim wasn't worried, to be completely honest. Sure, the "Swollen Eyeballs" had taken the two children hostage, but Skoodge would be able to rectify the situation immediately. Skoodge was a good invader...

He was smart... perhaps not as much as Zim, but definitely smart. Maybe it was a different type of smart. Thirteen years in almost isolation had taught him that there was more to people; humans and Irkens alike, than he had originally thought. There were different types of smart and different types of stupid. Dib was every kind of stupid imaginable, of course.

Zim's ruby eyes met with Zita's and there was a long moment of silence. As they gazed at each other, there was some sort of connection. It wasn't acceptance; no, not even close. Zim had no patience for humans such as Zita, the Teacher's pet. Despite the things Dib had told him, Zim knew people didn't change. Despite the evident love and trust Zim picked up in the Dib-Stink's eyes when he gazed at his filthy human partner, Zim couldn't understand it.

It was a strained understanding, perhaps. They knew what was holding them there; other people. Zita was there for Dib, whom she must love and adore or something dribbly like that. Zim was there to honour his grudging loyalty to Skoodge and Gaz. He supposed he couldn't just leave when Quin and Chyme had rescued him, either. He glanced down at the Zita and Dib-spawn; Maize Membrane, a lilac haired beast which humans would consider _cute_. How she managed to sleep curled up to a metal robot was beyond him. Wouldn't it be uncomfortable? Maize seemed to have taken a liking to both the inanimate Gir and Zim himself, as much as he despised it. He had never had anyone _fond_ of him. Sure, Gaz was his friend, and Mini Moose and Gir were faithful (if stupid) minions... Skoodge was his friend... but the way the Maize child smiled at him made him feel both superior... and not superior, in a way.

It was very hard to explain. The new emotion hurt Zim's head, so he scowled and ignored it instead. Ignorance felt so blissful compared to knowledge. Was that a human saying? It went something like that, didn't it?

He rapped his claw-less fingers against the table again, in a repeating rhythm. The stupid Scientists had cut them down so they were practically inexistent, and then taken his gloves all those years ago. They had regrown, only to be cut again and again. When Zim had been moved to Dib's laboratory they had basically stopped growing altogether. It had frightened Zim a little, to learn that his body wasn't working quite the same way as it should have been. He'd even told Dib as much, although in a very insulting way (Zim prided himself at working insults into everything he said to the Dib-worm) and the stupid human had scoffed and claimed it was part of life. Change is normal, he said.

Zim had at first been annoyed, but later, while wallowing on his own misfortune in the stupid tank, he'd realised something that made him grin. Clearly, even after the numerous tests and bizarre procedures performed on Zim, Dib still hadn't managed to learn anything about Irken anatomy. Irkens **didn't** change. They stayed the same until death. Humans, Zim had discovered after screaming at Dib for information, were a continuous mass of change. They never remained the same. Dib told him of so many bizarre changes; not just of the physical body, but mentally. There was talk of something called 'Psychology' which was the study of the human brain and their mental state. Humans had traits, certain tendencies and personalities, but mostly they were product of their upbringing and their own luck. Zim had forgotten most of it, but the basic knowledge remained. The fact was that Irkens weren't like this. Irkens had inbuilt personalities. They couldn't change.

Dib had probably never realised this. For all his talk, he was only a stupid human after all.

_Zim was running down the long hallway of the Membrane residence, Gir clinging to his head. It hurt, a lot, but he was more focused on finally escaping Dib. Gaz and her daughter were in front of him, running out of the front door. Zim followed, only to see the small Gaz-like creature struggling with her mother, yelling and making a racket. _

"_I don't want to give up the monkeys!" Gir's yelling distracted Zim momentarily. A small part of Zim's brain was desperately trying to translate it into something that made sense, even after all this time. _

_Zim moved forward towards the car, but found that Gaz had frozen right in front of the open door. Zim would dearly have liked to have pushed her into the car, but experience had taught him not to rush her. She was staring at figures standing underneath the light of a street lamp. They were men, ones Zim didn't recognise in the slightest, and they were holding something smaller... oh, it was Chyme. Gaz's daughter... how had she gotten over there? They were carrying Quin too. Zim watched as a car approached and Gaz ran towards them, yelling and screaming. Dib had joined in too. Gir jumped from Zim's head and ran with them, laughing like a maniac. _

_Zim retracted the Pak legs and stood unsteadily on his feet, his Pak building up his muscles again (much quicker than human muscles would recover). He watched with building confusion as Chyme and Quin were shoved into the car and the men jumped in too. The car drove off. Despite this, Gaz and Dib kept running and screaming after them... Zim wondered why Dib and Gaz continued to run long after the car had turned the corner. They had no chance at all of catching up to them. They clearly weren't thinking straight. At long last, they both stopped, and squinting, Zim could only barely make out their figures in the darkness._

_Their shouting was very loud, though. Zim couldn't make out single words, but it was likely to wake every pitiful human in the street. Gir's mad racket didn't help, either. Zim watched as Gaz threw her hands in the air and screamed insults at her brother. Her temper was still short, then. Zim cocked his head to the side as Dib hurried back towards the house, staring furiously at the ground. _

_Zim wondered if he was crying. It was hard to tell. Gaz crouched in the middle of the street, her screaming having ceased. Gir laughed and skipped back to Zim, where he paused._

"_Dib and Gazzy had a fight," he said happily, "and I got to play the mongoose."_

_Then there was a crackle and a spark of light. Gir fell in a heap; his cyan eyes a dull lifeless colour._

_Zim knelt beside him and studied him closely._

"_Short-circuited," he muttered. He supposed he'd have to find actual parts now, and fix Gir properly. He'd had to make do with the wires he could salvage from the small electronic devices in Quin's room. He wasn't sure if the boy would approve, but at the end of the day he valued Gir over the puny earth child's bedside lamp and alarm clock._

_Zim sat beside Gir on the sidewalk, not really wanting to move from the spot._

_He had spent the whole day fixing Gir, and now that he was fixed, Zim wasn't sure what to do. He would have left with Gaz and Chyme... but then the stupid Earth girl had to go and get herself kidnapped..._

_Gaz wouldn't leave without her. That wasn't good Earth parenting, and Zim knew that Gaz valued that highly. She always had, probably because her own Father had been so neglectful. Zim watched as Gaz walked slowly up the street towards him and sat beside him. He looked closely at her, studying her._

_She had indeed changed a lot, his first impression of her had been correct. She was a lot older. Her hair was much the same length, but probably older... her face was harsher, her features not as soft. That was what humans did, the pitiful things. They decayed. Irkens stayed whole, of course, until death. What was the point in shrivelling away?_

_Her eyes were dripping tears, a human trait that had always fascinated Zim. Salt water fell from their eyes when they were upset or possibly overwhelmed. It was bizarre and didn't make sense; how did it help them in any way? The thing that also puzzled him was how Gir managed to do it too. The robot had often been prone to pointless, noisy tears. It was physically impossible, yet the robot had managed to do it. _

_Gaz's sigh broke Zim out of his thoughts._

"_Chyme's gone," she said, and her tone was flat and broken._

"_I saw," said Zim, "I'm not blind, even if I'm slow now."_

_Silence remained. It occurred to Zim that he should say something comforting instead of sarcastic. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything._

"_Who were those men?"_

"_Dib said they were from the Swollen Eyeballs... I can't believe this, this is all Dib's fault! God, I hate him." Zim didn't doubt her hate for a second, since hate practically radiated from the woman._

"_Yes, yes... hate, and all that goo," Zim found himself stumbling back into his usual speech pattern easily, "but tell Zim, how exactly is it the Dib-Stink's fault?"_

"_How __**isn't**__ it?" Gaz demanded. Zim pondered this for a moment._

"_And how isn't it your fault?" he asked snidely. Gaz didn't answer Zim's question. Instead she forced a new one on him._

"_How are you sticking up for him?" she snarled, "I'm the one who rescued you, not my stupid brother."_

"_I'm not sticking up for the pathetic Dib-worm," Zim said, frowning, "I'm just curious as to where all this hate sprang from... you never hated him that much when you were younger."_

"_He locked you up, Zim," Gaz spelled out slowly, her eyes locking with his. Zim blinked and his face went blank. Oh, yes, that's right. Dib did, didn't he? To be honest, Zim really didn't see what the big deal was about. Dib locked him up, so what? Zim clearly had the upper hand now, didn't he? He'd escaped, and the Dib-spawn had been captured. Why was there reason to be angry?_

"_That's stupid," said Zim, "Dib is an idiot, but not worthy of such strong hate, unless it comes from Zim. You're not meant to hate him, Gaz-thing."_

"_Chyme's missing, and it's his fault," snarled Gaz, gnashing her teeth, seeming not to have heard what Zim had said. Zim scowled, having exhausted his wisdom for the night. He stood up and scoffed._

"_And this is why Irkens are superior to you filthy apes! Emotions, feelings... They are not worthy of the mighty ZIM! To the house I must go, to fix Gir!"_

_He dragged the robot along slowly behind him, and his antennae fell a little at the sound of Gaz crying, but then he pulled a stern face._

_**That is why Irkens are superior, Zim. Emotions... who needs them? **_

_Denying the small amount of emotions that Zim did have didn't make them go away. A strange feeling boiled in the pit of his squeedily-spooch. Zim ignored it, throwing all his protesting muscles into dragging Gir towards the house. If he stopped long enough to acknowledge it, the feeling would most aptly be described as __**guilt**__._

He had intended to fix Gir, but as soon as Zim had entered the house again, he'd pretty much forgotten about that. Dib's frantic state, Zita's confusion and Maize's panic had startled him to say the least. Watching humans lose control emotionally like that was sort of frightening. Maize had been bleeding (one of Gir's rouge laser shots had hit her) and so he'd found one of those stupid human band aids for her. It wasn't out of kindness, whatever the child might think. Her blubbering had really been annoying. One small piece of multi-coloured sticky plastic and Maize was completely fine.

He tapped his fingers on the table again and Gaz's glare intensified. Zim wondered vaguely how long it'd be before she snapped. Maybe she'd attack Dib-smell? That would prove to be entertaining. Mini-Moose settled down beside Zim. The room was warm, sort of like Zim's tank had been. He felt his eyes slide shut and he blinked to open them again. For the next few minutes, Mini-Moose would occasionally squeak or nudge him to keep him awake. It was good how Mini-Moose could always tell what Zim wanted. Right now he didn't want to fall asleep. Falling asleep would prove him to be as weak as the lilac-haired ape-baby on the ground with Gir. Mini-Moose nudged Zim's arm as his head started to droop.

That reminded him of a day so long ago...

* * *

**Several years ago, on July the third... right after that giant explosion in Stateston... yeah, you know the one...**

Zim's eyes slid open and he swatted at the small blurry being that was squeaking and continuously bumping into his head.

"Stop it," he muttered, rolling over and attempting to go back to sleep... His face rubbed against harsh metal. Zim jumped up and gave a startled yelp. He wasn't at the base like he'd originally thought. He was standing in a wrecked Voot-cruiser, smouldering softly in the deep crater it had made with the earth on impact. Gir was nowhere to be seen. Mini-Moose was floating beside him, squeaking.

"Mini-Moose? What? But how did you get here? Wouldn't the explosion have destroyed you?"

The Moose squeaked softly, its eyes staring in opposite directions.

"Oh, that's right," exclaimed Zim, "all those doomsday weapons that are crammed inside you must have made you indestructible!" Zim beamed and surveyed the damage done. Well, he was alive which was definitely a plus. The Voot-cruiser was clearly damaged beyond repair. He would have to find another mode of transport, then.

His tongue poked out from his mouth as he concentrated. The walls of the crater were steep and high, but not impossible. Zim dug his gloved claws into the charred earth and slowly made his way over the top and onto the ground. Mini-Moose followed, squeaking urgently. Zim paid him no heed.

Zim knew he should be listening, but he soon saw what the small Moose was worried about anyway; the filthy human town was in chaos. He could see it in the distance, alarms flaring, and a huge mushroom like cloud appearing from where the bomb had gone off. Clearly the entire country **hadn't** exploded. He must have miscalculated. Zim grinned.

"For once something works in our favour, Mini-Moose," he said, raising a gloved fist, "victory for Zim!"

Mini-Moose's soft squeak reminded him that not everything had gone to plan. The Tallest had been the ones to blow up Stateston. Would it spite them to know that Zim was still alive? Surely some part of them had to be impressed? Should he contact them and beg for their forgiveness? Should he run in case they came after him again?

"But where to go?" he said out loud, because Zim had found that making plans out loud was very helpful. It allowed him to formulate ideas and think better.

"Squeak."

"Mm, no, I don't think that I'll be able to fix the Voot Cruiser without my equipment... which has probably exploded..."

"Squeak."

"Well, that **is **a possibility, but how can we be sure that Skoodge won't just rat us out to the Tallest? How can we be sure that he'll really want to help us? No, we can't take that chance Mini-Moose."

One thing that Zim liked about Mini-Moose was that the minion never argued with him. He'd accept his decisions and try and offer suggestions as best as the creature knew how. He also liked how Mini-Moose could think of things that would never occur to Zim, because they were so... strange. He was sort of like Invader Skoodge in that respect.

"Squeak," Mini-Moose hung in the air lazily.

"I don't know. I don't think the Dib-human will want to house us... and Gaz is in Eng-land, where they speak all funny... with that brown-haired human and their vile spawn... no, Mini-Moose, I do believe we're on our own." Zim paused dramatically. "Where's Gir? Mini-Moose, have you seen him?"

The small Moose answered in the negative, and Zim groaned in frustration. He brushed some dirt and soot off his Irken Uniform and took in his surroundings in better detail. He was in the woods that surrounded one side of Stateston, perhaps a few miles from the city itself. He was no weapons expert, but he knew enough to know to get as far away from the city as possible. Irken weapons always had nasty side effects.

He turned around and faced the closest line of trees, his bottom lip stuck out in thought. He sighed at long last and plunged head first into the trees, gritting his teeth. Why did everything on this planet have to be so filthy? Harsh bark grazed against his skin and the pine needles made him jump every time he brushed past them. He didn't like forests.

"GIR!" Zim screamed, his loud voice echoing through the trees. Birds flew away from their perches, startled. Zim continued walking; loathing his situation even more with every footstep he took. Scowling at his feet, though, he didn't stop to think about it. Zim was preoccupied by nature; he never stopped to think, to consider. Why would he stop to consider this, his Tallest turning on him, when there was so much to be done?

And where was Gir?

It was several hours passed when Zim's antennae perked up. Gir's high pitched giggles were evident now. Zim stumbled towards the direction of the noise and came to a complete stop when he found him.

Gir was standing in some sort of filthy human camp, surrounded by a group of people wearing ragged clothes and outlandish silver hats over their matted hair. There were a few caravans and tents around, but it seemed nothing like a caravan park (yes, unfortunately Zim had been to one of those).

Gir wasn't wearing his disguise. Zim was about to run out and scream at Gir when Mini-Moose squeaked at him.

Oh, that's right. Zim quickly pulled his blue contacts and black wig out of his Pak, pulling them on just as fast. He then walked proudly out of the trees and towards the group of dirty apes. They weren't paying him any attention, though. They were all watching Gir perform bizarre dance moves.

"And 'dis one, 'dis one's called the pelican," Gir said happily, making strange flapping motions.

"It's one of 'em special FBI intelligence robots," said one man, his eyes wide in excitement as he looked at Gir.

"No," said a woman, adjusting her silver hat-thing (it was made out of tin-foil... humans had such bizarre clothing), "No, it's clearly an alien..."

"It's a robot," said the first man, frowning at her. The woman shook her head, her eyes growing wider as she thought of the **possibilities**.

"No, I mean, there's an alien inside," she said, "they use the metal as an armour, all the time pretending that they're just a_ harmless_ robot, while really it's scheming to take over the world!"

"Ohhh," the humans all said in union, staring greedily at Gir, who was now doing a small little jig of sorts... Zim didn't really know what it was, actually. Zim scoffed to himself, momentarily distracted. As if there were an alien inside Gir... how stupid were these humans, to think that Gir would be capable of taking over the world?

He watched, slightly captivated as the foil-headed humans swapped more theories, all of which were more ridiculous than the last. As stupid as the humans were, though, Zim soon became a little paranoid as the talk swayed more or less towards scheming aliens.

"I bet the robot caused that giant explosion in Stateston!" one cried, and Zim's eyes widened. NO! How could this ignorant human have realised? He had to distract them before he figured it out further. Without considering the consequences of an untimely entrance, Zim plunged straight towards Gir and the crowd of humans.

"Argh!" He screamed, effectively catching their attention.

"Mastah!" cried Gir, running over and wrapping Zim in a hug. Zim shuddered and attempted to push Gir off him; he was covered in dirt and tree sap. What had he been doing?

"Gir," he muttered, shoving the robot away. The humans were staring at him. One stepped forward, wearing both tin foil hat and tin foil body armour.

"Did that robot just call you Master?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Zim felt very nervous. What if they saw through his **brilliant** disguise and saw that he was an alien? What would Zim do then?

"Ummm... Yes?" Zim urged himself to think up some brilliant lie.

"Why?" asked the man, leaning closer to study Zim, "are **you** an alien?"

"No," said Zim hurriedly, "no, no. Of course not! I simply... I... Gir called me _Master_ because I built him... but really, I am just a smelly human-worm thing like you all... except for my **amazing superior intelligence**, which allowed me to build this robot..." Zim felt pretty proud of himself for thinking up that under pressure. Even so, the man looked suspicious. The rest of the humans, however, all chattered excitedly around him.

"You must be very smart-"

"Here, let me find you a seat-"

"Do you want a drink-?"

"What a beautiful robot... Did you teach it the dances-?"

They accepted it, and eventually the man who had been interrogating Zim smiled.

"Well, then, I welcome you to _Safe Harbor_."

"Safe Harbor?" questioned Zim, eyes darting around for an escape. The humans kept crowding closer, though. Zim was brought a chair and forced to wear a foil hat. The man, whom Zim had decided was the group's leader, grinned wider.

"Yes, friend," he said, "we are the ones who know of the things to come. We are prepared, as you can see." Zim gazed around at the unimpressive campsite.

"What do you mean by _the things to come_?"

"Why, it's already started," said the man intently, "didn't you see that explosion; the people fleeing in terror, and the ones smashing windows?" Zim shuffled uncomfortably.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I saw that."

"Well, that is only the beginning. It's been predicted that the world will end this year! We are perhaps the only humans alive that know of this!"

Zim raised his inexistent eyebrows and was about to ask more questions when there was a yell from the back of the camp. Everyone turned to see Gir laughing hysterically and throwing peanuts at a woman, who was screaming in terror.

"Gir, no!" Zim yelled, freeing himself from the throng of people and running at the robot, "Stop! I order you to stop!"

"Yes, sir," chanted Gir, his eyes flashing red as he stopped to salute. Then he stood there stupidly, his metal tongue lolling from his mouth. Several people crowded around the traumatised woman and pulled her away from the robot.

"I think your robot is malfunctioning," said the leader, frowning at the robot. Zim shook his head, all the time glaring at Gir.

"No, he's fine," said Zim, making frantic motions at Gir to make a run for it. The robot, of course, didn't understand, and instead spotted a small television which was currently on, under a small shelter. He squealed in delight and ran over to seat himself in front of it.

"I love this show," sighed Gir, eyes fixed on the screen already. Never in all the time Zim had known Gir, had he seen him watch the news, which was now currently on. The TV displayed shots of what was supposedly Stateston, according to the captions on the bottom of the screen. It had clearly been taken from a Helicopter, although it appeared very blurry. Zim moved closer, followed by only a few people now, rather than the whole camp.

"So far we've had trouble recovering any footage of the disaster whatsoever," said the news presenter, staring back at the camera in a general human stupid way, "as you can see, the footage shown is on a five second loop. Whenever our cameras get close enough to Stateston, bizarre disasters cause our camera crew and reporters to die." The reporter said this with a blank stare... did she have no mind? Shouldn't the death of a co-worker be something of a disaster to her? It must have been some sort of side effect of the bomb that caused those reporters to find an untimely end. Zim snickered, although he wasn't quite sure if he should. The reporter was still talking, but Zim couldn't hear her any more. His brain was working furiously.

He'd always wanted to find a way to destroy humans, hadn't he? He'd always wanted to take over Earth... this wasn't quite worldwide chaos, but it was close enough. This was a bigger disaster than he'd ever caused (and he'd caused quite a few in Stateston... there was the giant hamster, the time Gir had taken control of the house, the time he'd flooded it with that giant water balloon, and the time he and Dib had become baloney... well, that was more funny than chaos-worthy. Dib-stink had looked hilarious as a baloney).

Sure, the Tallest had caused it this time, hadn't they? And for the purpose of riding the Irken race of Zim himself. Still, they were Irken, and Earth's enemy. Zim hadn't caused the bomb, but why not take credit for it? Why, **he** sort of was the one that had blown up Stateston. He'd annoyed the Tallest so much that they'd done it for him. Yes, yes, that was it.

Zim had destroyed Stateston. Not the Tallest. **Zim** was a great Invader.

No sooner had Zim thought it that the idea took plant and spread like a disease. The conversation with the Tallest was pushed to the back of his mind, where he stored many things that didn't interest him.

"Wait," said the reporter on screen, "this just in; Professor Membrane, world renowned Scientist has been gravely injured as a result of the Stateston disaster. Hospital reports have said that he has decreased into confusion and possibly madness. Now we cross live to George Matheson, who is reporting live from the outskirts of Stateston with Dib Membrane, Professor Membrane's already mad son."

Zim's eyes widened as the image changed to one of Dib and another reporter standing against the backdrop of the destroyed town. Ruined buildings stood around them and people ran around screaming. Dib-worm was looking even more deranged than he usually did. And he usually looked deranged.

"Ohhh," said Gir, "Mary's on TV!"

"Yes, Gir, shut up," hissed Zim, his eyes fixed on Dib's burning glare.

"Yes, thank-you Martha," said the male reporter, "I'm here with Dib Membrane, the famous mad son of the formerly brilliant Professor Membrane, who, after this terrible, terrible accident here in Stateston-"

"I know this wasn't an accident," said Dib, interrupting George, "I know who did this." George looked a little confused, but Dib kept talking. "I know it was you Zim."

Zim tensed.

"I don't know how, but I know that you did it. Believe me when I say this, Zim, I will not let this lie. I will find you Zim, and bring justice," never in Zim's life had he been scared of Dib, but the fire that burnt in his eyes, the hatred thick in his voice made Zim shudder, "Wherever you go, whatever you do, you can't escape me. Wherever you run, whatever cave you hide in, I will find you; just thought you'd like to know that."

George and Dib were both silent for a moment. Zim stared at the screen in horror.

"Well," said George, "clearly he's still crazy-"

"I'm not crazy," Dib protested, looking livid, "an alien caused this! Why is the human race so- what are you doing?" Dib's tone changed entirely. George was clucking and flapping his arms like a chicken. Dib looked confused, before pulling a complicated device out of his coat. He stared at it in horror and then covered his mouth with his coat.

"The air," he choked, "it's filled with so many toxins, and I've never even seen half of them before. It's the air that's making everyone crazy. We need to get people on this, right now-"

Before Dib could finish his sentence, the scene had cut back to the first reporter.

"Well," said Martha, as stupid, yet enthusiastic as before, "that was George and Dib Membrane, and now onto our next subject for the evening. A new outbreak of killings in a local fast food outlet shocked the community this afternoon; a witness claimed the killer was getting upset over the use of the word **wacky **and then proceeded to descend into a murderous rampage-"

The words stopped reaching Zim's ears. He stared blankly at the screen as Gir started causing some sort of chaos in the camp, unbeknown to him.

He had never been afraid of the Dib-stink before, that much was true. Now, though, he felt terrified. He wasn't sure why, for he knew that Dib was quite stupid, and no one would believe him in a million years... but now, something felt different.

Perhaps it was because he could no longer require on Skoodge, his Voot-Cruiser or the Irken Armada. His base was gone, his computer currently disabled. All he had was a malfunctioning robot and a small moose crammed with doomsday weapons he didn't know how to use.

And now, by this point, Zim had virtually forgotten that he hadn't even caused the explosion at Stateston. To him, it was completely irrelevant. He'd forgotten that he was innocent.

**Wherever you go, whatever you do, you can't escape me. Wherever you run, whatever cave you hide in, I will find you; just thought you'd like to know that.**

* * *

**Well, again, I've been sort of neglectful of this story, but hopefully this will keep you satisfied for the moment. It's the holidays now, so hopefully I'll have more time to write. **

**I feel like this chapter went no where, but honestly it was a lot of fun to write. I was worrying about writing Zim a lot, but I think I've pinned him down well enough. **

**Also made a JTHM reference for fans of it. You'll probably get it, it's pretty obvious XD**

**Anyways, as always, review and tell me what you think. **

**-Mimi ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Present day**

Zita Membrane sat by the window in her living room, frowning at the empty street outside. The sky was grey and cloudy, yet there was no rain. The clock on the mantel behind her read 4PM. It was afternoon now, and still the alien at her dining room table hadn't woken. He'd fallen asleep just over twelve hours ago, and he was still to rise.

At dawn Zita had finally put Maize to sleep and then herself. She hadn't slept much, of course. She'd tossed and turned, guilt chewing away at the fabric of her mind until she lost consciousness. She had woken only a few hours later to the late morning, and couldn't get back to sleep.

As far as she knew Dib had not slept at all. She didn't have to imagine the guilt he was feeling; it was exactly what she was experiencing. Quin, their son, was missing. He had been kidnapped, along with his cousin, Chyme. Although Quin wasn't technically Zita's son, nor was he related to her in any biological way, she'd lived under the pretence for so long that she felt it was drilled into her mind. Quin had only found out that he wasn't the night before.

Zita and Dib had only been married a few months when Quin came into being. The prospect of children was far from both of their minds. Zita wasn't even sure if she had wanted children. She had been perfectly happy as she was.

She had been annoyed, afraid and overall torn when Dib brought home Quin from the lab. Her first thought had been giving the small clone up for adoption. She hadn't wanted him. None of that was meant to have happened. Despite the fact that he had been a baby, Zita had found no sympathy for him. Children in general had never really appealed to her.

Then she had found out that Dib had already named him, and she wasn't so sure anymore.

In Dib's eyes, Quin was another chance. He'd been neglected when he was a child, she knew. She had never asked about Dib's mother, but as far as Zita knew she was inexistent. She could already tell that Quin meant the world to Dib, even if he didn't say it.

So they had kept Quin. Zita had tried as best as she could. She loved her husband, so much, and she wanted it to work. Quin wasn't a bad baby, necessarily, but she had no connection to him. She hadn't spent nine months warming and growing to love this baby. Quin had been shoved upon them, out of the blue and it was difficult. And as warm and friendly as Dib could be, he also had trouble making connections with people. Neglect at a young age can do that to you. He made an effort, but sometimes Zita wondered if they didn't do enough for Quin.

Quin grew and Zita grew to love him, but she still felt it wasn't enough. She saw Mother's with their children, the love in their eyes. She knew she never looked at Quin like that. Not quite like that.

She had hoped it wouldn't affect him.

And then she'd had Maize and she finally knew what it was like to have a child. She knew she would do anything for Maize. And, although it broke her heart to admit it to herself, she knew that if there had to be a choice, she would choose Maize over Quin in a heartbeat.

Zita was pulled out of her thoughts by a sharp yell from the dining room. She jumped to her feet and ran to investigate.

Unfortunately, it was just Zim, the alien, who had finally woken. He looked slightly disorientated, blinking furiously, his antennae sticking in opposite directions. His large ruby eyes connected with Zita's and he scowled.

"Zita... whatever your last name is, tell Zim, what is the time?" he demanded, his fingers curling into a fist unconsciously.

"My last name is Membrane," said Zita, who was in no mood to be trifled with, "since I married Dib. And it's just after four now."

"But the sun is setting," said Zim slowly, taking in the already setting sun, "the sun doesn't set at **four**."

"It's winter," said Zita, "that's what happens. You've been underground for so many years I think you've forgotten."

"Silence! Zim is superior in every way to you stinking humans!"

Zita was silent for a moment, wondering what that remark had to do with forgetting, before smirking.

"You've been sleeping for a long time, Zim. Dib and I have hardly slept. I don't think that qualifies as superior, does it now?"

Zim scowled at her for a moment, but didn't yell like he just had.

"I need to rest more, because my Pak is still recuperating me," Zita didn't know what a Pak was, nor did she want to know in the slightest. "And how come no one woke me up? Where is Mini-Moose? Or Skoodge for that matter? Isn't he back yet?"

"No," said Zita quietly, "he isn't back. And I believe... erm, _Mini-Moose_, is with Gaz. She's gone to call Zeke, you know... her husband."

"Yes," said Zim in a slow voice, as though he were listening to how it sounded, "Zeke... why isn't he here?"

"Zeke and Gaz are going through a divorce," said Zita, realising that Zim wouldn't know. The alien continued to look at her curiously and Zita realised he didn't even know what the word divorce meant.

"How did you fool people for so many years?" She asked in exasperation.

"Because Zim is brilliant! And all you humans are stupidly ignorant. I mean, really, it's an insult to say that Dib was smarter than you all. Don't you remember the amount of times he warned you all about my wrath? Yet you did nothing. NOTHING! Foolish, ignorant human smell-babies." Although Zim was being offensive, Zita supposed he was being truthful. Well, not the brilliant part, for Zim had always stood out as a bizarre person back in Skool, but never for a moment had she believed that he was an alien. She really had been ignorant, hadn't she? Zita supposed that luck hadn't treated Dib well either, because as far as she knew, none of his plans for capturing Zim had ever worked until he was an adult; but then again, as far as Zita knew, neither had Zim's for world domination (or whatever he had been after).

Until that incident in Stateston.

Zita didn't have a personal grudge with Zim about that. She'd moved away in Hi-Skool, and she didn't have any family there. She had known a few people who had died because of the explosion and resulting events, but she hadn't known them all that well.

Zita's eyes travelled around the room, taking in the robot standing in the corner. It hadn't moved a muscle. It was Skoodge's robot, Zita knew, but she wasn't exactly sure what damage it could do. Skoodge had seemed nice enough when she'd talked to him briefly, but she made sure to be extra cautious around the robot. Although it hadn't done anything yet, the bizarre behaviour of Zim's own robot had made her a little paranoid.

On the subject of Zim's robot, though; Zita's gaze found the other little robot, which was still lying in a heap. Maize had been curled up to the robot the night before, until Zita had put her to bed.

"Are you going to fix your robot?" Zita asked. Zim gazed at Gir and sighed.

"Yes, eventually," he said. Then he was silent. Zita hovered by the dining table, unsure if she should be offering him food, or even talking to him. Zim didn't seem dangerous, per se, but he did seem different from what she remembered at Skool, and that fascinated her. He was a bit ridiculous, still after all these years, but the many years since they were in Skool together had definitely changed him.

"You're different," said Zita at last, "you've changed."

"Irkens don't change," said Zim slowly, raking his fingers along the dining table to see if it would leave any scratch marks, "that's not how it works."

"Everything changes, Zim," said Zita, a little confused now, "that's how nature is."

"But that's not how Irkens are," said Zim, although he didn't sound so sure, "we are a result of our genetic makeup. We _don't_ change."

"Yet _you _have," Zita said, locking eyes with the alien, who looked uncomfortable. Before Zim could say anything else, however, the robot in the corner moved. Skoodge's robot moved into a brisk salute and headed for the back door.

"What's it doing?" asked Zita in confusion, getting up from the table to watch as it ran into the backyard, towards Skoodge's little space-ship thing that was parked there. It jumped in and started the engine. Zim had leapt to his feet, and so Zita followed him into the backyard. Maize ran down the stairs and joined them too. The three of them watched as the space craft ascended into the air and then flew over the house and disappeared into the sunset.

"Skoodge must have sent a message to his SIR unit. He'll be able to bring the Quin and Chyme monkeys back in the Voot Cruiser which his SIR unit is taking to him."

Zita started to form connections in her mind. SIR unit equals robot. Voot Cruiser equals space-ship thing. Zita smiled, as soon as she realised what Zim had said. This was good, then. Skoodge had found Quin and Chyme.

"Quin and Chyme aren't monkeys," protested Maize, watching Zim intently.

"They are! All humans are monkeys... Yesss, filthy dirt creatures!" He said dramatically. Anyone would think Zim was acting, but Zita started to wonder if Zim was just like that.

Maize giggled. "You're silly."

"Silly?" enquired Zim, "I've never been called silly before... is it good?"

"Yes," nodded Maize, "it means you're funny."

Zita was wondering at the interchange between her daughter and Zim when she remembered Dib and Gaz. She hurried inside and ran into the kitchen. The Coffee jar lay empty on its side, but neither Dib nor Gaz were there anymore. She then turned the corner into the Living room. She found Dib collapsed on the couch, sleeping. He must have been exhausted. Zita smiled fondly and found him a blanket. She'd let him sleep for now.

Gaz was nowhere to be seen. Zita searched all over the house and eventually noticed Gaz sitting out on the pavement in the street. The strange Moose creature was hovering beside her. Zita walked outside towards her, pushing down her distaste for the woman and trying to remember that they were all in the same boat. She stood beside Gaz, but Gaz didn't look up to acknowledge her.

"Skoodge's robot just-"

"Yeah, I saw the Voot Cruiser fly over the house and figured as much. Chyme should be back soon, then?"

"And Quin," said Zita sternly, trying not to get angry. Although, it seemed just looking at Gaz made her feel angry after what had happened early the night before. It outraged her that Gaz would speak to Quin, an eleven year old boy, like he was nothing. What outraged her more, though, was the fact that she had hardly defended her son.

"What do you care, though?" asked Gaz, looking sideways at Zita, "He's not your kid."

An immense feeling of both anger and loyalty swelled up inside Zita. She bristled, glaring down at her sister-in-law.

"Quin is just as much my son as Maize is my daughter," she said, shaping every word clearly. Gaz leant back, staring ahead at the road.

"He's just another Dib, you know," her disgusted tone reflected exactly what she thought of Dib.

"Dib **is **my husband," Zita informed Gaz, biting down on her lip to say anything further.

"You used to hate him, though, in school? Why don't you anymore?"

"I grew up, Gaz," said Zita with a sigh, "and I guess you didn't." And then she turned on her heel and hurried back inside before Gaz could say anything else. As angry as she was, Zita couldn't help but feel a little gleeful; she'd just gotten the last word. That was a rarity when you were talking to Gaz.

Then as she entered the empty dining room once more, a whole new layer of guilt settled on her shoulders. What sort of Mother was she? Gaz, the ever-observant and perceptive Gaz, didn't seem to think she loved her own son. Of course, Gaz's opinion didn't really worry Zita. Her opinion, however, posed a new, more frightening thought. If Gaz didn't think Zita loved her son...

Did Quin?

* * *

Blurry shapes formed in front of Quin's eyes, and he struggled to see. All he could focus on was the throbbing pain of his head. He moaned in pain, tears coming to his eyes. He was disorientated and everything hurt.

"Quin? Skoodge, I think he's waking up!" Chyme's voice was very loud now, distracting him from his hurting head. Quin blinked again and still nothing was clear. The world was a dark blur. For a moment he was confused until he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses.

He was lying on something odd. He clenched his hands over the ground's surface and came to realise it was metal. He heard Chyme's voice again, but he couldn't differentiate different words from one another. His head was pounding again. How did he get here? Where was here?

Glasses were shoved onto his face, not so kindly, but as he blinked again Quin was able to see Chyme and the cockpit of some sort of vehicle. It wasn't one that he'd ever seen before. There was a large windscreen, displaying something that made Quin's stomach churn. Treetops... they were flying over treetops?

Quin pulled himself to his feet and was aware of a noise in the background, a persistent, annoying noise that he couldn't put a name too. He ignored it and staggered over to the control panel that bordered the windscreen. They were indeed flying over a dark forest, the sun having set very low so that only a sliver of red light appeared in the distance.

In a chair, clearly steering the vehicle they were in was Skoodge, who kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. The strange background noise continued, growing louder and louder.

Quin jumped as Chyme's hand fell onto his shoulder. He turned to see her standing right behind him, looking concerned. It was then that Quin noticed her mouth moving, yet he couldn't hear her.

The annoying, high-pitched noise came to mind again. That was Chyme's voice that he could hear. Yet he couldn't hear it. Chyme was saying something else now, and Quin tried to focus on her mouth, but his head was still spinning. He sensed that she was asking a question of sorts.

"I can't, I can't..." he started to say, but his words sounded distorted. The world around him felt heavy, and he fell backwards onto the metal floor with a thud. He was vaguely aware of Chyme sitting beside him, and he hung his head.

Quin wasn't aware how long it was before his hearing returned. He raised his head and the sun had set altogether. He could now hear Chyme and Skoodge talking, although their words still echoed a little. Quin also noticed a robot that looked a little like Gir, but clearly wasn't, standing in the corner. It must have been Skoodge's own robot. Was that how they'd gotten to the spaceship? Or had the space ship come to them?

"How long, now?" Chyme asked, and her voice was a lot clearer to Quin than it had been a few minutes ago.

"We should be there soon, actually," said Skoodge, from his seat in front of the control panel.

"What's going on? Where am I? What happened before?"

"We're on Skoodge's Voot Cruiser," said Chyme, "Skoodge contacted his robot thing with some sort of fancy equipment in Zim's lab, and he brought it. But how are you feeling? Does your head hurt?"

"Yes," said Quin suspiciously, "yes it does... what happened? I was feeling angry... and then... what?"

Chyme looked away awkwardly. Quin's eyes narrowed.

"What happened?"

"Skoodge hit you on the head with a wrench," Chyme said, evidently trying not to laugh.

"You hit me on the head with a wrench?" Quin stuttered, moving so he could see Skoodge sitting in his chair, tapping his fingers on the arms of his chair guiltily.

"You were attacking Chyme, I had too," Skoodge defended himself. Chyme rolled her eyes behind Skoodge and Quin, but neither saw her.

"What do you mean?"

And so Chyme started the momentous task of explaining to Quin what he had missed. Although Quin realised soon that it hadn't been that much, Chyme took much longer than she should have explaining exactly what had happened and what they had seen while Quin had been unconscious.

"So," clarified Quin, "somehow Zim survived by being in his Voot Cruiser when the bomb exploded?"

"No," interrupted Skoodge, clearly frustrated by Chyme's inconsistent storytelling, "no, Chyme isn't telling it right. Zim threw the bomb into the ventilation shaft-"

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention that part," muttered Chyme.

"-which goes throughout the whole base," Skoodge continued as though he hadn't heard her. "The ventilation system is huge. He threw the bomb into its depths and then parked the Voot Cruiser over one of the main vents."

"Wouldn't the space-ship thingy still explode?" questioned Chyme, who still didn't understand.

"Not after all the times Zim has _fixed_ it. He insisted on remodelling and remodelling again. At some point he must have worked some form of indestructible steel into the Voot Cruiser's shell. Zim can be very good at that sort of thing, you know."

Quin stood in silence, digesting all of the information he'd taken in. The Cruiser was silent. It was dark outside now, and Quin could see they were flying over buildings.

"Won't people see the ship?" asked Chyme. Skoodge shrugged.

"I've found that humans don't see things that they don't want to."

Quin supposed this were answer enough. To be perfectly honest, he was so tired and hungry that he didn't care if anyone saw the space ship. His stomach felt like it was dissolving from the inside out and he could feel the bags under his eyes like heavy bruises. They probably looked like bruises, now that Quin thought about it. The real bruise on his forehead didn't help much, either.

"So," Quin began.

"So," Chyme continued, trying not to smirk again.

"Zim didn't do it?"

"No," answered Skoodge.

"But then... Dad kept him locked up for no real reason? I mean, I know he wanted to capture Zim when he was little, but didn't they stop fighting? I mean-"

"Dib and Zim never stopped fighting," Skoodge interrupted, "I mean; they stopped fighting in the physical sense. But they were always at each other's throats. It was hard to be in the same room as them, normally, because they were so annoying. But eventually it relaxed, mostly under fear of Gaz's wrath, and by the time Dib moved away (about a year before that incident at Stateston) they were... I suppose you could say acquaintances."

Acquaintances? Strange. Quin wondered how his Father had never mentioned any of this before. Then his gaze darkened as he remembered that his Father had, in fact, been keeping quite a lot of stuff from him.

"So basically, Dib assumed that Zim blew up his Stateston, and got all angry and went after Zim?" Chyme said scathingly, and Quin was reminded of the distaste she had for Dib.

"Basically, yes," agreed Skoodge, scratching at his chin, "Dib assumed that it was Zim, and Zim never corrected him."

"But why? Why would Zim take the blame for something he didn't do?"

"I don't know," sighed Skoodge, "but he'd do it, and the thing is he might not even realise it in the process. Foolishness comes with being a defect... or perhaps that's just the Irken race in general..."

Before Quin could ask about Skoodge's statement, he felt the Voot Cruiser cut a sharp corner and he had to make a grab for the wall to stop himself from falling.

"We're here," exclaimed Chyme, looking through the windscreen at Quin's house. Quin felt his throat dry up and he watched with wide eyes as Skoodge landed the Voot Cruiser in his backyard. He had been so focused on getting home that he'd forgotten what was waiting for him; Zita, the woman who wasn't really his Mother and Dib, the man who wasn't really his Father. Now he just felt nervous and completely out of place, despite the fact that this was his own house.

As he watched Chyme exit from the Cruiser, he wondered what would happen if he just stayed here. If he begged Skoodge, would he let Quin come with him to wherever he was going? Quin wondered how it would be to travel out among the stars. Lonely, he supposed. And there would be nowhere to get good art supplies from. Still, it might be better than going in to face his parents once again.

_Bravery is measured not by your fears, but by how you face them._

_**Sometimes the bravest are the most fearful of all.**_

Quin followed Skoodge and the SIR unit out of the Voot Cruiser, staring determinedly at the ground. He wanted to see Maize, because if he were completely honest, he wanted some form of comfort. If Maize were in a good mood, than she'd be completely agreeable. Sometimes it wasn't so bad having a little sister.

He looked up at the sound of a shout. Chyme had run into her Mother's embrace, smiling like she was the happiest girl alive. This, of course, did nothing to help Quin's mood. He spotted Zita, standing by the back door, staring at him.

He sighed and moved his feet slowly forward. Zita then ran towards Quin and hugged him. Quin was shocked for a moment, but instantly returned the hug, smiling.

"I'm sorry, Quin," Zita whispered, "I'm sorry, but I'm so glad that you're safe. You know that I'm your Mother no matter what, right?"

"I know," said Quin, and although they had hardly said anything, Quin couldn't feel happier. They stood still for a moment, enjoying this sorely needed reconciliation.

"I think you should talk to Dib before you do anything else. Well, after I wake him up."

And Quin nodded, swallowing. Yes, he really should.

Then he remembered something, something ridiculously urgent.

"Can I have something to eat first? I'm absolutely starving."

* * *

**Hm, just had to end this chapter on a lighter note. **

**Wow, I think next chapter will be the last one... or perhaps the second last. I just can't stand when stories drag on and on for the sake of it. Yeah...**

**Well, I actually don't have much else to say. I want to thank anyone who has reviewed or Favorited or anything on this story, because it's meant a lot ^^ so THANKS :) **

**Next chapter should be up soon :P**


	11. Chapter 11

Zim sat in the upstairs corridor, panting, having dragged Gir up the stairs. He knelt beside the little robot and caught his breath. An inanimate Gir was a heavy Gir, it seemed.

Instead of continuing to drag Gir back to Quin's room, Zim sat against the wall, staring down the staircase. As soon as he had heard Skoodge's Voot Cruiser outside he'd hastened to get upstairs with Gir. For some reason he didn't want to be down there, surrounded by the filthy humans. He didn't want to watch their soppy reunions.

He wasn't sure what he wanted, to be completely honest. He hadn't for the past fourteen years. At least then, though, Zim had been occupied. At first he was busy running from Dib, and then even after he was captured he had more to think about than his future. It was always **here** and **now**. That was possibly how he survived thirteen years of boredom and probes.

Of course, only the first few years were full of probing and dissections. Dib had always been very careful to keep Zim alive, of course, and had displayed him to the press in a giant test tube on more than one occasion. Then, after the publicity had died down, Zim had been transferred to Dib's private laboratory. His only visitors were Dib and a few select scientists; but even they stopped visiting as the years went on. Dib always came, though. He regulated his tank temperature, his air tube and his nutrients supply. Whenever Dib came down, Zim would pester him for information. He didn't care much about the Dib-stink, of course, but any pitiful human information was better than complete and utter boredom. He had been one of the first to be told when Quin was accidently created. Zim had advised that he destroy the baby. To him, it would be just like destroying Dib. This only seemed to make Dib think in the opposite way, of course, and the baby was kept. He had tried to explain something about himself being given a second chance, but Zim had become bored and refused to listen. The years went on and gradually Dib became tired, and old. Zim's taunts no longer riled him up. He just stared at Zim, eyes filled with pity. Zim hated the pity more than any insult or jeer.

Zim wondered occasionally why Dib hadn't just killed him. Zim knew if the tables were turned, Dib would most likely have been killed a long time ago. With no Gir or Mini Moose to express this thought too, Zim eventually told Dib.

"_Well, I guess that just proves who the better is out of us, huh?" Dib said while sitting collapsed in a chair by the door. Zim grinned, reclining in his tank._

"_Yess... Zim is clearly the better," he hissed. Dib looked a little confused before shaking his gigantic head._

"_No, I didn't mean that. I meant that I was better, because, despite what you've done, I've spared your life." Dib seemed serious, as he always was these days. His gloating and jeering were but memories from long ago. Sometimes Zim almost missed it. Zim sat up as best as he could in the tank, shivering as the cold air touched his skin. Without his Pak his body temperature dropped dramatically, which was why he was in the tank goo. It was warm, yes, but it didn't mean Zim liked it._

"_How does not killing me make you better? It makes you weak, Dib-stink, because you cannot bear to destroy me!" Zim said, and although it was taunting, Zim really meant the question. How did sparing Zim's life make Dib the better person? Dib looked a little tired. But then, Zim figured, he always looked that way._

"_It makes me better because I'm sparing your life, despite how much I despise you, Zim. There's a saying; the true measure of a man is how he treats someone who could do him absolutely no good. But I wouldn't expect you to understand. No one really understands anymore."_

"_Than what are you trying to prove? Who are you trying to prove yourself too? Come on, Dib, face it. You're just a weak little human drool baby."_

_For a moment it appeared as if Zim had gotten a reaction out of Dib. He grinned widely, waiting for the man to snap. Unfortunately, he managed to regain control of himself._

"_I learnt a long time ago, Zim, that I shouldn't bother proving myself to people. They don't care. I'm proving myself to myself." _

_Zim scoffed, "that makes no sense, Dib-worm."_

"_To you, it doesn't," Dib muttered as he picked himself up and left the room. The door clanged shut behind him. Zim stared at the door for the longest moment. No matter how long he thought through the saying it made no sense to him. Zim spent a long time wondering if Dib was the stupid one for thinking crazy things, or if he was the stupid one for not understanding it._

To say Zim and Dib had never talked would be a lie. They did talk, but most of it was nothing substantial. Usually the discussions were short, and ended in either Dib getting annoyed and leaving or Zim screaming "**LIES!"** at the top of his lungs until Dib left. Then Zim would have at least twenty-four hours to digest their short conversation. Sometimes he found himself wishing the Dib-worm would stay longer, simply because the bleak room became more interesting with someone else there; even if that someone else was Dib. Usually important things were twisted into the short conversations. Zim learned quite a lot about the human race, and earth. He demanded answers from Dib, simply because he had no other way to learn things. Dib in turn probably learned a few things about the Irken Empire. They were never friends though. Zim hated Dib, so much.

He had dreamed of the day he would escape from his tank. Now that he was out, with a world of opportunities in front of him he felt more lost than ever. Never had he felt so out of place.

He could hear the pitiful humans in the background, talking noisily downstairs. Would Dib just lock him up again? Zim was fairly certain that he couldn't, what with Gaz and Skoodge there. Would Zim go with Gaz? With Skoodge? What had Skoodge been doing for the past fourteen years, actually? Clearly he was still loyal to Zim. But did he even know of the Tallest's plot to kill Zim? Would he care? Zim knew Skoodge had been ridiculously loyal to the Tallest originally, but perhaps that had changed?

He was distracted from his thoughts by a figure standing over him. It was Maize, a look on her face that told Zim she was considering something.

"What?" Zim asked impatiently, scowling at the little child who seemed obsessed with following him.

"Skoodge called you a defect. What does that mean?"

Zim froze and his eyes bulged. What? Defect... well, yes, yes he was. But why was this child bugging him about it?

"It means... it means... be gone, small child. Zim does not wish to speak to you."

Instead of leaving, however, Maize placed herself down in front of Zim and frowned at him.

"I'm not that little," she insisted.

"You are; the smallest of the small. Even smaller than poor Invader Skoodge."

"You're small too! You're very small," Maize said, and Zim bared his teeth.

"Height doesn't matter!" he barked, clenching his hands. Maize cocked her head to the side and Zim felt his hands unclench as he said the words again. "_Height doesn't matter."_

Never in his life had he heard anyone say that before. It tasted strange on his tongue.

"Quin says that he's better than me because he's bigger," Maize said, pouting. Zim blinked several times before he took in what she had said.

"And... does it? Does it matter? Is he better?"

"Well," Maize thought for a moment, "Mum says that we're all equal, despite our size. She says that the smartest people are sometimes the smallest, or the weakest. But then she tells us off because she's a mum and mums are allowed to do whatever they want. I think age matters. But size doesn't." Maize sounded sure enough of what she was saying.

"So you're saying that height doesn't matter, but age does?" Zim asked, clearly thinking. Maize nodded.

"Because parents are in charge, aren't they? I mean, if age didn't matter, kids should be allowed to do whatever they want." Zim wondered at this for a moment before a particularly loud noise sounded from downstairs. He turned back to the little girl sitting in front of him.

"Why aren't you downstairs with the rest of your filthy family?"

"I don't know. I wanted to know what you were doing. I already saw Quin. He's eating. He's eating pizza. I don't like pizza. I always order chicken nuggets."

It occurred to Zim the amount of pointless talking human children did.

"Dad once said that you hate humans. Do you really?"

"Yes, very much so," said Zim automatically.

"Why? Do you hate me?" Maize looked incredibly sad. Zim looked past her and out into the upstairs window. It was growing darker still.

"Not particularly. I just hate all humans. They're... filthy, and dumb and stupid. That's why."

"Not every human is."

"You can't trust them," Zim said, thinking back thirteen years ago.

Zim had known that Dib was after him, thanks to the news broadcast from Stateston. He'd been scared; of course, especially after it turned out Dib was gaining support. A few months after Stateston, Zim was still hanging around the _Safety Harbour_ place. Although their alien theories kept him paranoid, the name sort of made him feel safe. Plus, as annoying as humans were, Zim figured he could fit in in the virtually unknown little camp. The leader, a man most called Tuna-Ghost, was most helpful. He didn't seem to mind Gir, as the others did, and was particularly blind to Zim's being an alien.

A few months hanging around Safety Harbour, and Zim was feeling very happy with himself. That was until he saw the news special that basically revolved around Dib. For some reason, the human race had now only started paying attention to Dib Membrane's warnings. The news special was basically a debate between Dib and another scientist about whether or not Stateston was destroyed by an alien. Although the reporters were all leaning towards the **Dib is crazy** theory, it still made Zim paranoid. But it also gave him another way to annoy Dib.

One of the people in the camp was particularly interested in Dib, and followed him on some sort of social media site. Through this, Zim was able to discover where Dib was and stay one step ahead of him. He left cryptic messages and then watched from a distant as Dib discovered them and became increasingly frustrated. Zim lead Dib on a chase across the country, yet Dib's resolve only strengthened. Zim, Gir and Mini Moose travelled to several different places during the course of that year, but they always ended up back at _Safety Harbour_. It was their makeshift base, and with several people often coming and going from Safety Harbour anyway, Zim figured that no one would notice.

That was how he'd fallen into Dib's trap. How was he meant to have known that Agent Tuna-Ghost and Dib were both members of the same secret organization? How was he meant to have known that Tuna-Ghost wasn't as stupid as he seemed? How was he meant to have known that while Zim was away from Safety Harbour for the last time, media and Swollen Eyeball agents alike were all waiting to capture Zim?

And at the head of it all was Dib. Stupid, stupid Dib. They had captured Gir and Zim, leaving Mini-Moose free to hurtle through the atmosphere and out into the universe to get help. It had taken Mini-Moose a long, long time to reach the Massive, and then find out that the Irken Empire was going to be no help. It had taken him even longer to find Invader Skoodge. It had taken even longer still to reach Invader Skoodge...

But Mini-Moose had been incredibly faithful. Zim smiled.

"You like Aunt Gaz, though. She's your friend, right? So you can't hate all humans." Maize broke Zim out of his thoughts once again.

"Gaz is an exception to the rule," said Zim. Maize looked at him for a while longer, before seeming to decide she couldn't un-code the Irken, and heading back downstairs.

* * *

Quin ate his three-day old leftover pizza in a hurry, watching Chyme do the same in the chair opposite him. Maize joined them, skipping down the stairs.

"What were you doing?" asked Chyme, her mouth full.

"Talking to Zim," grinned Maize, "he's weird."

"Well, he's an Alien," said Quin, taking another bite of pizza, "he's going to be."

"You're weird," muttered Skoodge as he entered the room, although he smiled good-naturedly. He opened the door of the fridge and hummed as he chose out something to eat. This answered whatever questions Quin had about Irken eating habits. Skoodge sat down with Maize's half-finished brain freezie and drank it happily. Maize didn't even notice.

Quin didn't notice Dib standing at the doorway until he looked up. He instantly gulped down his half chewed pizza and his voice stuck in his throat. Chyme looked up and cleared her throat, quickly exiting the room. Quin threw her a dirty look but she was already gone. Skoodge sat there, watching the scene with mild interest.

"Quin? Can I talk to you for a moment?" Dib asked, and Quin noticed that he looked ridiculously tired. Quin nodded, shoving another bit of food into his mouth so he would be excused of talking. Dib sat down at the table. Maize was still there, although now she was shooting death glares at Skoodge, who was still drinking her brain-freezie. Skoodge shot confused looks at her out of the corner of her red eyes. It was almost like a silent conversation. Quin tried not to get distracted and focused back on his Father.

"I'm sorry we never told you about the clone thing... you know," Dib looked around the room awkwardly, "but I didn't want you to feel any different. I know I did."

"What?" asked Quin.

"Oh... Well, this is something I've never really told anyone. Not even Zita... Well, Gaz and I were both sort of cloned from our own Father's DNA. We never had a Mother, either."

For some reason, this didn't seem strange to Quin. Perhaps, with all the bizarre things going on currently, his brain was just accepting anything as a fact.

"So, I'm a clone... of a clone?"

"Yeah, basically; weird, huh?"

"Yeah, it's kind of like a badly written Movie or TV show, or something."

There was a moment of silence.

"But... I'm nothing like you, or your Dad. I don't like science or paranormal studies nearly as much as you two do... or did."

"I'm definitely not much like my Father was. I'm not much like Gaz either. I guess that DNA isn't really anything much, right?" Dib smiled and Quin nodded, swallowing his remaining food.

"It's okay Dad. I guess I understand. It's just..."

"Shocking?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

They sat in silence for a moment, and Quin felt that this was about as close to understanding he and his Father were ever going to get.

"What's going to happen to Zim? You do know he's innocent, right?" Quin said hurriedly, his wits returning to him. Dib looked at him for a moment, clearly puzzled.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Oh," Quin sighed, "Gaz hasn't told you?"

"Gaz hasn't talked to me much at all."

"Well, I'm not explaining," Quin said determinedly.

"Neither am I!" called Chyme from the other room. Quin turned to look at Skoodge, who was sucking noisily on the remains of his Brain-Freezie. He set down his drink and sighed, opening his mouth to start explaining.

"Well, it's sort of a long story..."

* * *

Zim was sitting inside Quin's room once again, Chyme's bag of stolen alien goods open in front of him. Gir's wiring was all messed up. He'd need to replace a good deal of it, actually. So far he'd made little progress, but then, he'd only been at fixing the robot for the past half an hour. Chyme had found some tools in the garage for him to use. Zim had asked why they hadn't left yet, but Chyme just waved off her question. He had the feeling that Chyme didn't want to leave here so soon.

He poked his worm-like tongue out of his mouth as he worked, his red eyes focused on a small wiring inside Gir's chest cavity. His hand was steady as he held the tool closer and closer...

"Zim," said a voice and Zim's hand jerked in shock. He scowled and threw the tool away, looking up into the Dib-filth's face.

"Dib-stink," said Zim angrily. Dib stared at him for a moment and then scoffed.

"I can't believe this," Dib said, almost laughing as he looked at his little enemy, "they're all right, aren't they? Of course they're going to be. Nothing ever really works in my favour when it comes to you, does it? After all this time I kept you locked up, you didn't really destroy Stateston?"

Zim just gaped for a moment.

"What makes you say that?" he asked snidely.

"Skoodge told me."

"Well... what makes Skoodge say that?"

"Long story; but basically he watched the video transmission of your Tallest telling you your mission was fake. And then attempt to blow you up. Skoodge said that you saved a great deal of people, rather than destroy it. Apparently the bomb was meant to blow up the whole Earth. So basically, I just came to thank you."

"Don't thank me. I didn't save the Earth for you."

"Then who did you save it for?"

Zim didn't answer. He thought about saying Gaz, but the Gaz he had witnessed in the past 24 hours seemed bitter. She didn't seem like the Gaz he knew fourteen years ago. He knew that if he saved the Earth, it wasn't for her the way she was now.

"I don't know. I saved it because I had nothing else. I had nowhere else to be."

Zim and Dib sat in silence for another moment. Silence had a habit of working their ways into their conversations... especially when they were trying to be civil.

"Well, what are you going to do now?"

"Fix Gir."

"Well, yeah," said Dib, "but I mean after that. Are you going to stay on Earth? Join the Resisty with Skoodge? What?"

Had Skoodge joined the Resisty? Well, Zim supposed that was an option. They would be glad for his help, wouldn't they? Imagine their joy when the Mighty Zim came to join their noble cause.

"I don't think that far ahead. I don't over-analyse and think out every path. I'm not like you, remember?"

"How could I not?"

There was another long silence. Zim couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't really want to say anything, to be honest. He knew from past experience that he and Dib were never destined to get along. This conversation would only end in disaster, surely.

"Zim?" Dib asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me that you didn't let off the bomb? You know I would have let you go if you explained it to me from the start, right?"

"Really?" asked Zim curiously, before sighing, "I guess I didn't want to think about it much. I had always wanted to cause you grief, Dib-Stink, and there was an explosion with my name written all over it. I realise now, though, that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do..."

"I thought everything you do is smart, huh, Zim?" Dib taunted, but it was friendly enough. Zim looked at him tiredly, and he thought that Dib was perhaps shocked at what he saw in the red eyes. It was, shockingly enough, wisdom. Perhaps only there for a moment, but it was there.

"Time changes many thoughts, Dib."

"I thought Irkens don't change?"

Zim stopped shock still and his eyes bulged for a moment. He **had** drilled that into Dib's gigantic head whenever he had gotten the opportunity for the past thirteen years, hadn't he?

"I'm a defect, Dib," said Zim at last, "I guess I just figured out what makes defects different from any other Irken."

"They change?"

"Yes. They change. And that's why the empire doesn't like them much. Anything other than the longing to crush other planets programmed into a Smeet's Pak at creation and an Irken suddenly becomes a threat to the Empire. Any new emotions, any new knowledge or gained wisdom; it instantly spells danger."

"Well... it took a lot to change you."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a complement, Zim," said Dib scathingly.

"I know. I'll pretend it's one though, yes?"

"Sure, whatever," and their talk ended on a less than inspirational note.

Zim watched Dib leave the room, and for once in his life, he no longer felt the urge to rip out the man's throat.

He still hated Dib, of course. Zim could change, but nothing could change the hate he felt for Dib. Yess... so much hate.

* * *

The next night saw the farewell of both Zim and Skoodge.

Quin stood beside his cousin, staring up at the stars. For once it wasn't cloudy, and the beauty of the night sky shone through. It was clear to Quin why some would be interested in the stars and what lay beyond it. Although, for Quin, it seem much better to simply draw the stars; to capture their beauty in one moment. He didn't think he wanted to travel among them. Not quite yet, anyhow.

"Zim, aren't you coming to say goodbye?" Skoodge asked, watching Zim struggle with a half-animated Gir by the Voot-cruiser. Gir was working, but still malfunctioning, short-circuiting and then turning back on again by himself. He had been talking in German for an hour, and then in Irken for even longer. Maize had found it hilarious. Zim, however, had not.

Zim scowled as he finally managed to make Gir sit still and hastened to join Skoodge. It was sort of amusing as everybody stood in a line, waiting to bid the aliens goodbye.

Maize was first.

"Goodbye Maize," said Skoodge, "it was nice meeting you. And you, Zita, hope you guys are well in the future... and so on."

"Goodbye Lilac-haired beastie," Zim said to Maize, a curious look in his eyes.

"Bye Zim," said Maize, "say goodbye to Gir to me, okay?" and she wrapped Zim in a tight hug. Zim looked very uncomfortable and quickly shoved Maize off him.

"Okay, yes," he said, before turning to Zita, "goodbye. Don't hug me, please."

"I wasn't going to, believe me," replied Zita curtly, holding Maize's hand tightly.

"Bye Quin, Chyme," said Skoodge as Zim continued to edge away from Maize, "it was nice meeting you guys."

"Yeah," said Chyme, "and thanks for saving us."

"Yeah, thanks," Quin added. Skoodge smiled and headed along to say goodbye to Dib and Gaz.

Zim came to a stop in front of Quin.

"Goodbye Dib-spawn, I hope you live a long and hideous life, and I hope that your head doesn't get as big as Dib's. It probably will though, which is very unfortunate."

Quin was slightly affronted, but Chyme just laughed.

"See ya, Zim," she said, "I hope your life is long and hideous as well." Zim glared at her, possibly for mocking his speech, but it didn't faze Chyme. Then Zim continued to march down the row.

"Good bye Dib-Stink, I hope I never set eyes on your ridiculously enormous head; may you die a hideous death."

"Likewise, Zim," said Dib coolly. "And thank you," he added quickly.

"For what?" asked Zim shrewdly. Dib shrugged absent-mindedly, running a hand through his hair.

"Goodbye Zim," said Gaz lastly, fixing him with one of her common squinting stares.

"Goodbye Gaz," said Zim, considering her, "thank you for coming and saving me and all that."

"No problem," said Gaz. Zim teetered there for a moment, as though he was considering saying something else, before turning abruptly and joining Skoodge in the Voot-Cruiser.

Chyme frowned beside Quin.

"What does that mean? I thought Zim and Mum were meant to be friends? Is that it? Just **goodbye**?"

When it came to Chyme and Quin, the latter was not usually the one with the answers. Right now, of course, he had an answer ready. It was one he'd heard not a day before, yet it felt like much longer.

"Sometimes there's just too much between two people to ever be like they once were. There's just too much time and pain separating your Mum and Zim. And they aren't known to be the most affectionate of people, are they?"

"I guess not," Chyme smiled.

And together they watched as the Voot-Cruiser ascended up into the dark sky, the stars reflecting in their wide eyes.

**THE END**

* * *

**Well, that's pretty much it guys. I liked where this ended, to be perfectly honest. I didn't want to draw it out for no reason. I could do a sequel, maybe, but that's only if I have enough interest. So if you would read a sequel, leave a comment in the reviews.**

**Also, a few notes: In the last chapter I mentioned in was Winter, yet it was set in July. My mistake. Forgot that American seasons are backwards to Australian ones. But the IZ universe is sort of backwards, so let's just say it's seasons are backwards to, huh? **

**Also, the thing about Zim's Pak... well, I wasn't exactly sure how a defect is different from normal Irkens. I know that mostly people say they have emotions, but Zim never seemed the type to have many complex emotions. So I decided to do a different take on the whole Defect-thing. I mean, more complex emotions could probably be included in there... yeah, it occurs to me that maybe I didn't think that out too well... Oh Well, I like it.**

**Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, favourited or followed. I hope you enjoyed this story, and hopefully I'll be back doing more IZ fan-fictions in the future XD**

**_MIMI_**


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